


Sway

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Khan Noonien Singh was put into cryogenic sleep the second time he never expected to wake up again, and he certainly hadn't expected to be hundreds of years in the past when he was woken up. Left without his family and trapped in a setting he isn't familiar with, Mycroft Holmes makes him an offer that he knows he shouldn't refuse, and so he accepts with one condition: that Mycroft have no actual contact with him, using the intriguing pathologist who has no reason to lie to him as an intermediary. Molly Hooper agrees, but the results of her decision end up surprising both of them as he gets brought into her world and she, in turn, learns the truth about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [renniejoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/renniejoy/gifts).



> So this year has been an incredibly trying year for me, filled with an illness that pretty much screwed me up and tremendous ups and downs in my personal life. One of my very good friends has helped out in tremendous ways, be it by raising money to keep a roof over my head, helping me put food on the table, moral support or a needed distraction involving the roleplay game we're both in. Considering it is all her fault I ship Khan/Molly, I felt writing a fic with the ship we both love a way to at least partially say thank you for everything she's done. So thank you very much, Viki, from the bottom of my heart.
> 
>  **UPDATE:** This fic, sadly, languished after Christmas 2014 due to just a lot of personal stuff, but was finished for the Het Big Bang. Much love to **renniejoy** for being my beta for this and making it sound even better than I had hoped!

He had never expected to be awake again. The first time he had gone into cryogenic sleep he knew there was a chance they would be found and he would be awoken. After all, he was the leader, the one in charge of his crew, and anyone in their right mind would wake him up first. But he had not expected to be used as an implement of war again. He could have handled that, of course; it would not be hard to slip back to old ways, do the things most people never wanted to be reminded of. He could have adapted enough to live in the time and place he was awoken. But Marcus had just _had_ to use his crew as collateral. That had been his grave mistake, and one that he paid dearly for.

He didn’t form attachments to many people. Aside from his crew, the men and women he considered his family, he was of the opinion that people were insignificant and therefore beneath his notice. He had been born and bred to conquer, and that attitude stuck even when the tide had turned against him and his people and they had been exiled. It was only necessity that had caused him to stop trying to conquer other worlds and focus on keeping his remaining family safe. He had been the one to put them in stasis and that, in turn, led them to be found after the idiot Romulan Nero changed the course of history. If that hadn’t happened things might have been different. But if he had to do it all again, getting his revenge on Starfleet and plowing the USS Vengeance into San Francisco when he believed Spock had killed his family, he would do it without hesitation.

His last waking memory when he was put back in cryostasis was the technician looking over him. He had expected that would be the last thing he would ever see. And then suddenly he was awake, lying on a bed instead of in his cryotube. He had no clue where he was, or when he was, or why he had been awoken again. He had no idea what fate had befallen his family, if they were once again being held hostage or if they were awake as well or worse, if they were lost to him. The one thing he did know was that this time he would not let anyone use him again. If they did not learn from Marcus’s mistake then they would be doomed to repeat history.

As it stood now he was in a windowless room with white walls and a light that tinted them blue. There was the bed he had awoken on, a toilet and a sink. There was also a door with a hinged flap, most likely to feed him without ever having to open the door. When he was finally able to focus he took it all in and realized that, once again, he was a prisoner. He could have easily ripped the door off its hinges and escaped, but that would be the rash and foolish thing to do. He needed to wait and see who his captors were and what they wanted from him. He had only been awake for a few minutes when the door opened and a man entered the room. He was dressed in an immaculate suit last seen in the late twentieth or early twenty-first century, and his brown hair was brushed back even though it was obvious it was thinning. Khan sat up and stared at the man. He stared right back, studying him. “The resemblance is uncanny,” the man murmured.

“My resemblance to whom?” Khan asked.

“My brother,” he replied. “Your hair is a different shade, and straight as opposed to curly. And you are definitely more muscular than he is.” He stepped into the room more. “What is your name?”

“John Harrison,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. If what he was thinking was true, this man had no clue who he really was, so giving the pseudonym that Marcus had forced upon him would not be refuted. Based on the style of clothing the man was wearing it was apparent the chances he was in his own time were slim, unless the man was a throwback who preferred fashion that was hundreds of years old. He also surmised he was somewhere in England because of the man’s accent. But aside from those two observations he couldn’t tell anything else. He had no clue who this man was or what he had planned for him, and it was unnerving.

The man simply nodded. “I see.”

Well, that pretty much confirmed he was not still in the time where he’d been frozen the second time. He would have recognized the alias as someone who should not be awake. He would be concerned. And yet he seemed mildly bored, actually. Khan shook his head to clear it slightly. “When and where am I?” he asked.

“At the moment you are in quarantine in an undisclosed holding facility. Today’s date is September 24th.”

“What year is it?” Khan asked, scowling and trying very hard not to roll his eyes. It should have been fairly obvious when he had asked for the date he meant the year as well.

“2014,” he replied.

Well, that just confirmed what he had assumed, he thought to himself. He had gone quite a ways back into the past. He had no clue how it had happened, because even though he knew how to use transwarp capabilities traveling through time was something that no one was able to do when he had been awoken the first time. “Was I alone?” he asked.

“No,” the man said, shaking his head. “However, you were the only survivor.”

“How many others?” he asked quietly, dreading the answer.

“Seventy-five. There were seventy-two other tubes containing people as well as three members of the crew manning the vessel that brought you here. The damage done to the cryotubes looked intentional. Yours was the only one spared.”

Khan hung his head. Gone. His family was gone, possibly murdered on orders from someone who wanted an embarrassing blemish in history to disappear. All he had done to keep them safe had been for nothing. He wanted to be angry, to let loose some of the rage that was bubbling up inside of him, but that could wait until he was alone again. If he did anything now it could make life exceedingly unpleasant for him in the future. “I see,” he said quietly.

The other man was quiet for a few moments. “I have no clue about how you got here or the circumstances behind you being cryogenically frozen. The level of technology we have here is not anywhere close to that yet. Therefore I am led to believe that you are from the future, as implausible as that may seem.” He stepped closer. “Tell me, do you know how to build the technology that would have allowed you to be cryogenically frozen? Or how to build the ship that crashed off the coast?”

“Yes,” Khan said quietly. “That and more.”

“We could use your insight to further advance our technology now,” the man replied.

“And I’ll be your prisoner,” he said, lifting his head up and sneering at him. He would rather die than go back to being a prisoner.

The man shook his head slowly. “No. Once we have determined it is safe for you to be among the general public you will be released into my care.” He paused. “That probably isn’t the best way to put it. I will be monitoring you, helping you adapt and generally being someone you may turn to if you have need. This is in exchange for your employment with the British government. You will be paid a handsome sum of money for the work we would like you to do, and you will have complete freedom to live the life you choose, within reason.”

“And if I don’t agree to those terms?” Khan asked.

“Then you will stay here in this room until you die,” the man said with a negligent shrug.

“The deal is simply trading one prison for another, as gilded a cage as it would seem,” Khan said, moving slightly so he could lean against the wall. “You know nothing about me, and I know nothing about you. For all you know I could be a massive threat to the world. And for all I know you could keep me in eternal slavery.”

“It is true I know nothing about you. But my superiors find themselves in a unique position. What do we do with a man from the future? Do we lock him up and try to exploit his secrets and most likely get nothing in return? Or do we offer an exchange of freedom for scientific advancement? My superiors have decided it best to take the latter approach, as there is more to gain by your willing involvement than your resentment.” He looked at Khan intently. “Your employment by the government need not be permanent. As long as you begin designing the technology needed and you supervise the manufacturing of the things you design you can later leave and simply consult if needed. We have very capable scientists here, some of the best in their fields. While you are important we will not always have need of your services.”

Khan was quiet for quite a few minutes. With the loss of his crew and the fact he was hundreds of years in the past there were not many options available to him, and this offer was certainly better than what he had endured those four months under Marcus. The prospect of eventual freedom was enticing, but as there were no limits set on exactly how long he needed to do what was required that freedom could always be dangled in front of him like a carrot on a stick. “How will I know you’ll be true to your word?” he asked finally.

“We will enter into a legally binding contract once an identity for you has been established. It will be for, say, three years of employment, with a position as consultant afterward. If I violate the terms of the agreement you will have legal recourse to walk away. If we renegotiate, however, then that is another matter entirely.”

Khan studied him. This was a man who appeared to have no problem lying to get what he wanted. He had all the bearings of a politician, and that made him loathsome in Khan’s eyes. People like him would make promises and break them as easily as he would snapping a neck. “I don’t entirely believe I can trust you.”

“On this matter you can. I would rather have your willing help then lose the chance for serious scientific advancements. And I am fairly sure you would rather be among the world than trapped in a windowless cell for the rest of your life.” He went back to the door. “As it stands, I have a woman outside who can talk to you more. She has placed her trust in me before, and I have done the same with her. Perhaps she can be more convincing.”

“How do I know _she_ will be trustworthy?” Khan asked.

“I think you will be able to tell soon enough that you can trust her. You obviously are able to read people well. And aside from one instance I have found she is quite inefficient at lying.”

“And what would that instance be?” he asked curiously.

“When she helped perpetrate the supposed death of my brother,” the man replied. “It was of vital importance, and she did quite well, though there were times she came close to slipping. But on every other occasion I have seen before or since she has failed miserably.” He went to the door and knocked three times. “When she is done I will come back for your decision.” And with that, the door opened and he walked out, shutting it behind him.

A few moments later it opened again and a woman came in this time, carrying a medical case. She was wearing black trousers and a dark green shirt under a white lab coat. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun on the top of her head, and she appeared to be nervous. “Hello,” she said finally. “I’m Molly. Molly Hooper.”

He inclined his head towards her. “John Harrison.”

“Hello, John,” she said, giving him a small smile. She shifted her hold on the medical case. “Mycroft wanted me to make sure you were handling being woken up well, and to run some tests.”

“What types of tests?” he asked warily.

“Blood work and a general physical, things like that,” she said.

He was even more wary now. He knew exactly what his blood could do. If other people knew he would never get a real chance at freedom. But they had to suspect something if seventy-two people like him died and he came through unscathed, even with damage to their cryotubes. They’d be idiots not to. If the man who had just talked to him suspected something and still made the offer he’d have to make the best of it. “Very well,” he said finally.

She nodded and came closer, setting the case on the bed next to him before opening it. “I don’t normally do this on living people so I apologize if I hurt you,” she said.

That was curious. “What type of doctor are you?” he asked.

“A pathologist,” she replied. “Mycroft asked me to do this because he trusts me, and I agreed because it’s very rare for him to ask for my help. He also said he would owe me a favor, which I’ll admit is very appealing.”

“Mycroft is the name of the man who was in here before you?” he asked.

She nodded as she got a syringe and a packet out of the case. “His name is Mycroft Holmes. I’m friendly with his brother Sherlock.”

“The one who looks like me.”

“Yes,” she said. “It really is uncanny how similar you two look. You could almost pass for twins.”

He nodded, remaining quiet as he watched her prepare. While he was watching he noticed she had a tan line on her finger where an engagement band would have been. That was interesting. After a few minutes it appeared she was ready, and he rolled up his sleeve above his elbow. She took a length of tubing and tied it above his rolled up shirt, then felt for a vein. When she found one she opened up a packet and sterilized the area before she inserted the syringe in his arm. She withdrew two vials of blood before she undid the tubing and removed the syringe. “That’s all you need to take?” he asked.

She nodded. “He only wants the most basic tests run. Two vials should be enough.” She placed the vials into a padded part of her case and then pulled out a stethoscope. “I’m going to do the physical now, but I just want to listen to your heartbeat and breathing first. Could you stand up, please?”

He stood up, and after a moment so did she. Now that they were both standing he saw she was several inches shorter than he was. He waited as she moved closer to him, putting the stethoscope on his chest and instructing him to breathe in and out deeply. He complied, and then she had him do other things while standing before having him sit back down again. It was somewhat tedious because even after having been awoken he was still in excellent health. Having superhuman healing abilities would do that to a person, after all. But he did as she said because it meant his own freedom would be granted faster. Finally she was finished and she began to put the things she had used away. “Well?” he asked.

“You seem perfectly fine to me,” she said, giving him a smile. “I’ll run the tests Mycroft wanted me to run on your blood, but I think you’ll pass them with flying colors.”

He nodded, not wanting to speak. It was only a matter of time before she realized that there was something different about him, which in turn meant that Mycroft would know it, which meant this entire deal the man had offered could be scrapped. But then he had to know something, and so he cleared his throat as she began to leave. She paused and turned to look at him. “What will you do if you find something...unusual?” he asked quietly.

“Well, that depends on what I find,” she said slowly. “If it’s something that poses a threat to the populace I’ll tell Mycroft and he can inform his superiors and they can make a decision from there.”

“And if it isn’t?” he asked.

“Am I going to find something unusual?” she asked, tilting her head. “Because I’m assuming it’s going to be unusual. I mean, you’re from the future, you were frozen _and_ you survived a horrific crash. I assumed the human race had evolved however far in the future you’re from. So as long as there aren’t any diseases in your blood that is going to wreak havoc on the world I’m going to clear you for being allowed to leave. I don’t expect to see normal results, and I’ve told Mycroft that. He’ll trust my judgment.”

He blinked slightly. That was something he hadn’t expected. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” he said.

She shifted her hold on the case. “I try my best to always do that. I had to keep a secret for two years and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t lie unless I absolutely have to now.”

“Then answer another question for me,” he said.

“All right,” she said with a nod.

“Can I trust Mycroft Holmes to give me my freedom?”

She was quiet for a moment. “I think you can trust him with that. He’s the type of man who will lie when he has to, but if he makes you a promise in the interest of the greater good he’ll keep it. He really wants whatever knowledge you have in your head and offering you a deal for you to willingly cooperate would be much more expedient in getting that knowledge than torture.”

“He would resort to torture?” Khan asked, mildly surprised.

“If you ever get the chance to meet Sherlock, ask him about what his brother did to James Moriarty in his quest to get answers. I think he learned it didn’t work very well, and he doesn’t seem to be the type to repeat mistakes.”

“Perhaps I will,” he murmured.

“Well, I hope if it all does work out for you you make the most of it,” she said. She went to the door and paused before knocking on it. “I don’t know if it will make a difference, but if the people on the ship with you were people you were close to, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I lost them long before we were loaded onto that ship,” he said quietly. “The only difference is now I have no hope of reuniting with them.”

“Then I’m doubly sorry,” she said before she knocked on the door. After a moment it opened and she stepped outside of the room.

Before the door shut Mycroft came back in. “Have you thought about my offer?” he asked urbanely.

“A half hour or so isn’t really much time,” Khan replied, moving back so he could lean against the wall again. “Is this the type of offer that has a time limit?”

“No, but it does have limits that can’t be crossed,” Mycroft said with a nod. “It depends on the results of her tests. If there is a reason to keep you in quarantine the offer is taken off the table completely. If that’s the case we can make sure you are comfortable, but you will not be allowed to leave. If she finds nothing wrong then the offer stands until you give me a definitive answer.”

“Then it’s in my best interest to wait so I don’t get my hopes up,” he replied, crossing his arms.

“As you wish,” he replied. “Do you have any dietary needs we need to take into consideration?”

“Not restrictions, but I do not need to eat much,” Khan said. “So a large helping of food would most likely be wasted.”

“And dietary preferences?” Mycroft asked.

“I like spicy food,” he replied. “Food with flavor to it, if I absolutely have to eat.”

“Very well,” Mycroft said as he turned back to the door. “I will take that into consideration. I will come back once Molly has finished running her tests.” He knocked on the door and then it opened.

“One last thing,” Khan said as Mycroft began to leave.

“Yes?” he asked, turning to him.

“If I do get my freedom, know that I don’t trust you. But I think I trust _her_ ,” he said.

Mycroft looked at him intently. “I will keep that in mind.” 

“Do that.” Mycroft gave him one final nod and left the room, leaving Khan by himself again. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt. There was still rage underneath, but it would do no good to act on it. While he appeared to have privacy he was fairly sure he was being monitored and the appearance of irrational anger would only hurt him in the end. There was a sense of sadness there as well, as he began to think about the magnitude of what he had lost. There was a cautious sense of hope that he would perhaps not be treated as an instrument of war again, that his freedom would be real and not an illusion brought about by his captors. But the surprising thing was the sense of curiosity he had about the good doctor.

She was an intriguing puzzle, one that he hoped he would have the chance to figure out. And that actually concerned him. He did not need to complicate the simple matter of having an actual life by forming attachments to anyone, friendly or otherwise. But he found himself considering it all the same, and he wasn’t quite sure why. If he got his freedom, he knew that there was going to be a connection to her because he had been entirely truthful when he said he thought he trusted her, and if Mycroft Holmes wanted his willing cooperation then she would need to be involved, whether he wanted her to or not. Those were going to be his terms, and he was fairly sure Mycroft would agree to them. The question became whether she would agree or not, and he had the feeling that was what all of this was going to hinge on.


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Mycroft returned. It had definitely not been an entire day, of that he was sure, but it had been long enough that Mycroft was in a different suit when he returned. Khan didn’t bother to get up from his position of lying down on the bed when the other man came in. He gave Mycroft a glance and then looked back up at the ceiling, doing his best to appear bored. Underneath his bored demeanor, however, was a mixture of anticipation and doubt that he would get to leave. He stayed quiet, forcing Mycroft to speak first. “The test results came back,” he said finally.

“And?” Khan asked, continuing to act bored.

“And Molly has said you have no reason to remain in quarantine,” Mycroft said, a tad more shortly than he had probably anticipated. “Once things are set up for you to integrate into this era you will be free to leave.”

“Good,” Khan replied. He glanced over at Mycroft and saw he was giving him a mild glare. “Yes?”

“You are just as bad as my brother,” Mycroft said, and Khan was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. “As it stands, I’m going to have my hands full enough with _him_ , so your handler is going to be someone else.”

“Some other low level bureaucrat?” Khan asked snidely.

“No,” Mycroft said. “As you have said you think you can trust Molly she will be the one you have primary interactions with. That was what your intention was when you told me that you did not trust me but you thought you trusted her, was it not?”

That bit of information caused Khan to sit up. It was quite astute of Mycroft to realize that had been his unspoken demand. “It’s comforting to know you’re not an idiot,” he said in response.

This time Mycroft actually scowled for a moment before he got himself under control and the mask of boredom was back upon his face. “There are some stipulations to this agreement. And before you balk at them, know they are at her request.”

Khan nodded slowly. “I’m listening.”

“You are going to be residing in her home for now. I was going to have your lodgings be elsewhere but when I told her where your lodgings were she said they were inadequate and impersonal. She had stated, however, that this arrangement is temporary. Once you are acclimated to this era you will need to find lodgings of your own.”

“That’s fine,” he said, slightly surprised she had made the suggestion that he stay with her at all. He thought he would be dumped in the nearest set of apartments to wherever Mycroft had planned on him working and he would have to fend for himself. “What are the other stipulations?”

“That you at least attempt to get to know the people you are working with and that you refrain from meddling in her personal life.” He paused. “Those are two stipulations she gave to my brother at one point in their friendship, so they appear to be hard and fast rules she has for the people in her life that are more...antisocial.”

“And did he follow them?” Khan asked curiously.

“One more than the other,” Mycroft said. “She was more insistent with him that he stay out of her personal life, and so far on that he has obliged.”

“Those sound like reasonable enough stipulations,” he replied.

“I have something of my own to add,” Mycroft said. “Hurt her in any way and I will do everything in my power to make you regret it. And you will find I have enough power to more than deliver on that threat.”

Khan studied him as he spoke. He was quite serious about that threat. Not that Khan was planning on doing much of anything in regards to Molly aside from the barest minimum to allow her to help him acclimate. It would be better to study her from a distance and solve the intriguing puzzle that she was as opposed to forming another attachment. Considering how the other instance where he had formed attachments had turned out it would be better that way. Safer. He nodded slowly. “Understood.”

“It will only be a few hours until your identity here will finish being crafted for you. You will be debriefed and then released into Molly’s custody, for lack of a better term. For the moment we have clothing for you that is acceptable for this time period. I do not know if they are your preference, but they will do for now until you are able to purchase more.”

“How?” he asked.

“The funds for the beginning of your employment have been deposited in an account,” Mycroft said with a slight frown. “You will have a card to use to make transactions. Do you not have that system in your time?”

“No. We’ve evolved past the point of needing money,” Khan replied.

“Interesting,” Mycroft murmured. “I will have Molly explain that to you after you are dressed.”

“She’s here already?” he asked.

Mycroft nodded. “I had details that I needed to go over with her. She has been here since early this morning.”

“What time is it now?”

“Nearly noon.” Mycroft moved back to the door. “If you do not like the clothing don’t be too upset about it around Molly. She picked it out.” And with that he knocked on the door. It opened and Mycroft took a folded pile of clothing. Khan got off the bed and came over, taking it from him. “I’ll give you privacy now.” And with that, Mycroft left the room.

Khan set the clothing on the bed. Aside from the coat, which was dark grey, it was all black. He appreciated that. The trousers were of a heavy cotton, and the shirt was a lighter weight one that was button down. She had also picked out a black undershirt in case he needed it. There were also socks and what looked like fairly comfortable shoes. He stripped down and then quickly got dressed. The clothing fit well enough, though the collar of the button down shirt was tight. He simply decided to leave the first two buttons undone.

There was a knock on the door when he was putting on the shoes, and it opened up a crack. “Are you decent?” he heard Molly ask.

“Yes,” he replied. 

The door opened more and she came in. Her hair didn’t look quite as messy this time, gathered in a knot at the nape of her neck, and she was wearing a dark purple shirt and a black skirt that went down to her knees. This time she didn’t have a lab coat on, instead having a black coat draped over her arm. “Did you like the clothing?” she asked a bit hesitantly.

He nodded. “The collar of the top shirt is a bit too tight, but I can simply wear it with the top two buttons undone.”

“Good,” she said, and he could see her visibly relax. “I didn’t know what colors you liked so I figured black was a safe bet. Have you tried on the coat yet?”

“Not yet,” he said, turning his attention back to the shoes. When he was done getting those on he stood up and moved around a bit. They were a little stiff but they fit. He moved back to the bed and then picked up the coat, slipping it on. It too was a good fit. “It appears that everything fits.”

“I’m glad,” she said, giving him a smile. “I asked Sherlock what sizes he wore and then estimated a little bigger to account for the fact you’re more muscular.”

“I would say you did quite well,” he said with a nod.

“Did Mycroft tell you that you would be staying with me until you get used to things?” she asked. He nodded in response. “My guest bedroom is decently sized, but I’m sure you’ll want a place of your own with a bigger bedroom soon enough.”

“What accommodations was he going to give me?” he asked curiously.

“A small one bedroom apartment in a not so nice area of London,” she said. “You’re better off with me.”

“I _can_ take care of myself,” he said. “I do know how to do that.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “I hadn’t been sure of that.”

He looked at her as she spoke. She looked as though she had been rebuked, and he felt just a tiny bit sorry for that, which surprised him. “I thank you for your concern, though,” he said. “And I believe it would be preferable to living on my own while I acclimate.”

She relaxed again. “All right.” She tucked a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of the knot behind her ear. “Mycroft had wanted me to go over the basics. Is it really true you don’t use money in your time?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Most items are made with a replicator and the things that aren’t are procured with credits.”

“We don’t have replicators, but our money system is fairly simple,” she said. “I can explain what the currency looks like better at home, but your money will be accessed by card for now, and that’s easy enough to understand. But I’ll try and explain as much as I can about the basics of things before we leave. Is that all right with you?” He nodded. “All right. Let’s begin.”

She began to explain various things and he listened, taking it all in. Some of it didn’t make much sense, and he would ask for clarification, but generally he understood enough of what she was talking about that he felt he could pass for someone who had lived in this society for at least a little while. It was quite some time later when the door opened and Mycroft stepped inside. “I need John to debrief him on the new identity.”

Molly nodded as both she and Khan stood up. “How are you going to explain his resemblance to Sherlock?” she asked curiously.

“He’s a relative,’ Mycroft said.

“So now I have to pretend to be related to you?” he said, crossing his arms.

“A distant cousin. Sherlock and I had an aunt and uncle who died when we were young who our parents despised. It would not be hard to convince people we had an unknown cousin.” He opened the door. “Follow me,” he said curtly.

“Wouldn’t it be in Molly’s best interest if she knows all of this as well?” Khan asked, not moving from where he was standing. “After all, I will be residing with her for a time. She should know all about me or else people will question why she would allow me into her home.”

Molly turned slightly red. “I honestly don’t think anyone would question it in the slightest.”

He studied her for a moment. Based on her reaction he surmised that at one point she’d had a romantic attraction to Mycroft’s brother, and most likely it hadn’t been returned. That would be the only reason there would be coloring on her cheeks. “I still think she should know,” he said, choosing to spare her further embarrassment.

Mycroft thought for a few moments and then nodded. “Perhaps that is best,” he conceded. “If you’ll both follow me?”

Molly stepped out of the room first and after a moment’s hesitation he did as well. They were at one end of a long corridor, and as they walked he saw doors which ostensibly led to other rooms. At the end of the corridor there was another hallway, and they went down it. They passed three doors on the left before Mycroft stopped and opened a door. There was a table with a variety of packets on it and four chairs. He motioned for the two of them to sit on one side. Molly sat down first and he sat next to her as Mycroft sat across from them. “There seem to be a lot of packets,” Khan remarked.

“Your entire life up to this point is in these packets, at least to society as a whole.” He looked at Khan and Molly. “We’ll be going over a lot of information.”

“I have an eidetic memory,” Khan replied.

“That will be helpful,” Mycroft said. He picked up a packet containing what looked like identification. “Let’s begin.” With that he launched into details of the identity that had been created for him. This fiction was much more detailed than the one Starfleet had created for him, going all the way back to the year of his supposed birth. He listened with few comments and questions, though Molly did have a few questions that she voiced that he had been thinking of as well. It seemed to be at least a few hours later when Mycroft finished. He handed all the packets but one to Khan, and then he opened the last one. “Two items Molly insisted you have,” he said, pulling out a wallet and watch and setting them on the table before pushing them towards Khan.

Khan picked them up off the table. The wallet was very simple: black leather with multiple slots for the various cards he now had and an area for the bill forms of currency. The watch was a surprise, though. Even in his own time watches for men were gaudy affairs. This watch was simple. It had a black leather band and a white face with the numbers in black, one through twelve in larger print and thirteen through double zero in smaller print underneath their respective numbers, and a small section where the seconds were counted on the left. He wondered if it had been Mycroft or Molly who had picked it out. He suspected Molly when he took a good look at the ostentatious watch Mycroft himself wore. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Six twenty-four,’ Mycroft replied. “Molly set it to the correct time when she gave it to me to give to you.”

Khan nodded, putting the watch on his wrist. He was glad that she had picked it out because her taste seemed to be more in line with his own. When he was done he looked at Mycroft. “Are we done here?”

Mycroft nodded. “Yes. Molly knows the way out. And John?”

“Yes?” he said as he and Molly stood up.

“Remember our discussion,” he said. Then he looked down at the folder that had been underneath the packets and began to read it, effectively dismissing both of them.

“I need to get my handbag, but we can leave after that,” she said. “I’m sure Mycroft has arranged a car for us.”

“Very well,” he said as he opened the door. They stepped outside and this time he followed her down the remainder of the corridor, then another, and then a third. There was a set of lockers at the end of it, and each locker had a keypad on it. Molly keyed in a code on one of the lockers and it opened. She pulled out a black handbag with multicolored flowers on it. “How much further?”

She pointed to a door at the end of the hall. “The exit is on the other side of that door.” Then she looked at her handbag for a moment. “If you’d like, I can carry the packets for you.”

“If you wish,” he said, handing them to her. She stowed them inside her handbag, and once she had it on her shoulder they began to move towards the door. When she opened it he saw it was dark outside, and it was cold as well. He pulled his coat more tightly around himself as Molly led the way to a waiting car. The windows were tinted dark enough that they were nearly blacked out, and he supposed that was so no one could see their way to or from the facility. Molly opened the door and climbed in, and he got around on the other side and got in as well. He didn’t speak, content to stay silent, and she let him. She had pulled out a small device and was keying things in on it once she had turned it on. “What is that?” he asked.

“It’s a phone,” she said. “Specifically it’s a smartphone. It’s probably archaic by your standards, but this one is top of the line.”

“I suppose I’ll have to get one,” he said with a sigh. “I imagine anyone can reach you whenever they want?”

“Only when it’s on. Otherwise they have to leave a message. We can attempt to get you one tomorrow, if you want. If not, I have a landline and you can give that number out if someone needs to get a hold of you. I can take a message or let the answering machine pick it up.”

“I think it would be strange if I didn’t have one,” he said. “And there is the added bonus that if I encounter something that confuses me I can contact you.”

“Well, unless I’m working. Then my phone stays in the office. There’s no point in having it out when I’m doing an autopsy,” she said. “But I can check it often in case you need to get a hold of me.”

“That defeats the purpose of my having it to contact you,” he pointed out.

“You aren’t starting this work for the government for a few weeks,” she said. “I’m on sabbatical for the time being to help you adjust. Hopefully by the time we both go to our respective posts you won’t need to call me because something is overly confusing.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said quietly. “This is going to be an inconvenience, isn’t it?”

She shook her head. “No. I did this a few years ago when Sherlock was recovering at my home after he faked his death. Mycroft wanted me to be there in case he needed something. I went to work for a few days after he fell until I was able to arrange to take an extended vacation. My superiors thought it was due to grief over losing him so they granted it. I took a month and a half off as he healed.”

“I imagine he had quite a few injuries after falling off a roof,” he said.

“Multiple broken bones, some sprained muscles, a few things that required stitches. When he was wheeled in I really thought he was dead; even though I had helped with his plan. It wasn’t until we were alone that he showed me he was still alive. To be honest, I was surprised he was still conscious. But he was in great pain for weeks, and almost completely immobile. I’m rather shocked he doesn’t have lingering issues.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Earlier you said no one would be surprised that you were allowing me to stay with you. Is that because of him?”

She nodded slowly. “I fancied him. It was quite apparent to anyone who knew me. My...” She stopped and took a breath. “The man I was dating when he returned was quite similar to him, in some respects. A pale imitation might be a better term. So having someone who is even more similar to Sherlock living in my home will not surprise anyone who knows me.”

“I noticed you have a tan line on your ring finger,” he said.

“I was engaged for a time,” she said, looking down. “It ended a few weeks ago. My fiancé realized he was a poor man’s substitute and rather than continue to hurt him I gave him back the ring and ended the relationship.”

He was quiet for a moment. He had not meant to pry into her personal life. One of her stipulations had been not to meddle. And he reasoned finding out the facts was not meddling. Still, she appeared not to want to talk about it, so he wouldn’t push for now. If it became apparent he needed to know more for whatever reason he would ask for more details, but for now they could slip into a silent state. After a moment he picked up her phone again, it’s screen being the only illumination in the car, and he occupied himself with going over the intricacies of the new fiction he needed to perpetrate. Finally the car came to a stop and the window in front of them rolled down. “Ms. Hooper?” the driver said.

“Yes?” she asked, looking up.

“We’re at your home.”

She nodded, putting her phone back into her handbag. “Thank you,” she said, moving to open the door. He did the same, and he looked up at a small townhome. It certainly seemed nicer than what he imagined he would have had. She made her way over to the door and reached into her handbag, rummaging around for something. Keys, he assumed. When she found them she pulled them out and unlocked the door. “This is my home,” she said as she waited for him to step inside. He did and he looked around, taking it in. It seemed spacious enough, and they were only on the first floor. She turned on a light in the foyer and took off her coat, hanging it up on a coat rack. He did the same with his, and then she motioned for him to follow her. She went into another room and turned on a light and then stopped. “I should have expected to see you,” she said with a sigh towards the man sitting on a chair facing the doorway.

It was fairly obvious that this man was the infamous Sherlock Holmes. It was almost like looking in a mirror, Khan realized, with a few marked differences. Sherlock looked up at Molly. “My brother should know better than to keep secrets,” he said. “And when you asked for my clothing sizes I deduced you were in on whatever his newest secret to keep was.”

“John, as I’m sure you’ve realized, this is Sherlock,” Molly said. “Sherlock, this is John Harrison. Now, would you kindly do me a favor, Sherlock, and get out of my chair? I set my handbag there.”

Sherlock blinked slightly, but then he stood. He was definitely less muscular, and his hair was black and much longer than his own. He approached Khan with the bearing of a scientist observing an experiment. Khan was rather put out by that. “I am not something to be studied,” he said towards Sherlock, crossing his arms and glaring.

“Molly, tell me his connection to my brother,” Sherlock said, ignoring Khan’s actions and words. He came closer, finally standing in front of Khan. They were exactly the same height, so they were looking right into each other’s eyes.

“Do you want the actual connection or the one we’re all supposed to go with?” she asked, moving over towards the chair and setting her handbag on the cushion. “Because I’m fairly sure you’ll be summoned to his home tomorrow where he’ll go over it for you.”

“It’s always nice to walk into a meeting like that already aware of the facts,” Sherlock said, moving his glance down the length of Khan’s body and then back to his face. “I can already imagine Mycroft is taking the similarities in appearance into account. He is some distant relative of mine, perhaps. I don’t think he would go with doppelganger. Too science fiction for his taste. But I know that’s not _really_ who he is.”

Khan was getting annoyed with Sherlock. “Who I am is no business of yours,” he said gruffly.

“One: you share my face, so the chances of us getting confused for each other is exponentially large. Two: my brother and Molly are both involved in this, and Molly’s willingly involved, which means it’s important. Three: Molly is one of the few friends I have so I’m going to be around quite frequently, so knowing what you’re about now will save us all a headache later.” Sherlock mimicked his stance by crossing his own arms. “Now. Who are you, really.”

“A superior specimen to you, for one,” Khan said. “And a time displaced superior specimen at that.”

Sherlock scoffed. “Are you saying you’re from the past?”

“Future,” Molly said as she headed into the kitchen. “He’s from the future.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened slightly. “The event off the coast. You’re involved in that. Mycroft has done an excellent job covering that up.”

“A ship from my time carrying myself and others like me crashed, apparently. Of the seventy-six people on board, I was the only survivor.” Khan sneered at Sherlock. “But you don’t believe that.”

“I would be more receptive to you actually being a long lost member of my family,” he said. “Time travel is impossible.”

“I thought as much as well, but _somehow_ I ended up hundreds of years in the past. Your brother is going to make use of my knowledge of advanced technology to make scientific advancements,” Khan said.

Sherlock tore his glance away from Khan and then turned to go into the kitchen. “And you believe this tripe, Molly? I thought you more intelligent than to believe fairy stories.”

“Sherlock, don’t,” Molly said wearily. “I ran the tests on his blood. He’s not normal by our standards. He is superior in that respect. The results were like nothing I’ve ever seen before, and you know how often I run those types of tests.”

“But the future? Really?” Sherlock asked. “There’s no way that’s possible.”

Khan had had enough. “It is, and I am from the future, and the sooner you wrap your head around it the better off we’ll all be,” he said as he went into the kitchen as well. “Your brother will have more details for you soon, I’m sure.”

“He’ll just tell me the fiction,” Sherlock said. “I want the unvarnished truth.”

“And you have it, whether you choose to believe it or not,” Khan said. “Now if I were you I would run along and wait for your brother to fill you in on the elaborate fiction you’re a part of whether you want to be or not.”

“And just what are you going to do to make me?” Sherlock asked, drawing himself up to his full height.

“I’m considering punching you across the face and tossing your unconscious body out onto the pavement,” Khan said.

“Will you both _stop_?” Molly asked, coming between the two men before Sherlock started to respond. Then she turned to face Sherlock. “Sherlock, we’re telling you the truth. You know me. I don’t like to lie, and I swore I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He looked at her intently, studying her. “I still find it too fantastical to be true,” he said quietly.

“I can call Mycroft and he can confirm it. I’ll tell him not to lie to you. That can be the favor he owes me,” she said.

Sherlock slowly shook his head. “Don’t waste a favor on that,” he said. “It is rare that my brother owes anybody any favors. Keep that until you have need of it.” Then he turned back to Khan. “Hurt her in any way and I will murder you and I will get away with it. Understood?”

He could tell Sherlock meant that threat. Whatever else she was to him, Molly was important to him, and he would protect her as much as he was able. He had to begrudgingly respect that. He would have done the same for those he called family. In point of fact he already had, not that it had amounted to much. “Understood,” he said finally.

Sherlock looked back at Molly. “If you have any need of me, call me. Immediately. It doesn’t matter the time of day. You know I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“I remember that all too well,” she said. After a moment she leaned in and kissed his cheek softly. He seemed surprised from the gesture. “Once you’ve talked to your brother we can talk more, all right? Just you and I.”

He nodded. “All right. I will speak to you soon, Molly.” He gave Khan one last quick glance and then moved around him to head out the door.

Khan watched him leave. “He’s an insufferable prat,” he said when the front door had shut behind Sherlock.

“And the sad part is I think you caught him on a good day,” she said, moving to a stack of menus. “I’m hungry and I don’t feel like cooking. Do you want anything for supper?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” he said. “Do you know of any place that has spicy food?”

She flipped through the menus, studying them. “Your choices are Chinese, Vietnamese or Indian.”

“Indian,” he said without hesitation. She pulled out the menu and handed it to him, and he scanned it before pointing at something that sounded appetizing. “I will take that.”

She looked at where he was pointing and nodded. “All right. I’ll place the order for us. There’s a set of pyjamas in the guest bedroom as well as another outfit for tomorrow. Do you want me to show you where you’ll be staying?”

“After we eat,” he said.

“All right,” she said with a nod, going to her handbag. She pulled out her phone and glanced at the menu to dial the right number. He watched for a moment before moving towards the room he had just been in. He should have expected for there to be complications, he realized, and unless Sherlock came around to believing the truth there could be serious impediment on this freedom he had been granted, and he sincerely hoped Mycroft could do a better chance of convincing his brother to go along with things than they had.


	3. Chapter 3

He had thought that having to get used to archaic technology would be easier, as the original timeline he was from was not that far off from this one. But the time spent in the isolation area had caused him to wonder if he had most likely not just gone from the future to the past but somehow managed to traverse universes as well, a thought that grew more solidified as he managed to figure out how to use the device Molly had called a laptop. After they had eaten the night before she had given him the machine and explained what it did, and she had stayed awake with him until after midnight explaining various things about the different websites and such, finally just leaving him on a website called Wikipedia to let him explore. The more he looked into past events the more he saw significant differences between what he had learned of Earth’s history as a child and what he was reading now.

He stayed up most of the night reading page after page on modern history, speed reading them and committing them to memory. He would add knowledge from books later, as he had the feeling that knowledge that could be easily tampered with might not be the most reliable, but it was now very early in the morning and he was sitting in the chair he’d been in all night, pondering things. Exactly how long _had_ he been in cryogenic stasis the second time? At least long enough for the technology to develop to the scale that had allowed Nero and Spock Prime to travel through anomalies in space to other points in time, or perhaps further for them to be stabilized enough to allow travel between universes, unless that was a freak accident. As he was the only survivor of the crash, he supposed he would never know.

What he _did_ know was that this revelation was going to make the task set before him by Mycroft Holmes even harder than he had anticipated. He had no idea what the actual state of the technology of this era was, or what the top scientists were capable of. He _might_ be able to bring them up to what he had been accustomed to before he went into cryogenic stasis the first time, but it would be nothing like whatever was among the wreckage of the ship he had been on, he could guarantee that much. It left him in a foul mood, knowing that if he was going to be held to those standards then his freedom could be taken away at any point.

He was still brooding when he heard movement from the hallway and tensed. After a moment he saw it was the feline who resided in the house with Molly. Taylor or Tyler or something. No. Toby. Toby was its name. The cat came up to him and peered at him, then walked past him into the kitchen. Khan followed the cat with his gaze and watched as it went to its food bowl. Apparently this was a routine, which meant he was going to have company in a few moments. And soon enough, Molly came into view shortly afterward, her hair down around her shoulders. She blinked as she saw he was awake. “Did you go to sleep at all?” she asked.

“I rarely sleep,” he said. “I have no need to.”

“That super blood of yours,” she said.

“Among other enhancements,” he said, moving the laptop off of his lap. “Are you usually up this early?”

She nodded, giving him a small smile. “I have to be in at work by eight, and I like taking my time in the morning, so I’m awake by now. I suppose Toby waiting by his food bowl hinted at that?”

“It had been a clue,” he said. “But I thought with you not working at the moment you would relax.”

“Oh no, I like schedules, at least when it comes to waking up and going to bed. Bending them on occasion is fine, but the more I can keep to them the better,” she said, moving into the kitchen to take care of Toby. “Did you stay up all night reading various websites?”

“Mostly that Wikipedia one,” he said, standing up as well to stretch. “If it can all be taken at face value than not only am I in the past but I’m in the wrong universe, which could pose some problems.”

“Ah,” she said. “Technology not being up to snuff and all that?”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

“Well, I think Mycroft will be happy with any advancements at all, to be honest. You’ll have some of the best and brightest scientists at your disposal. I’m sure you can come up with something.” She got Toby’s food for him, feeding him quickly. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really, but it wouldn’t hurt to eat, I suppose,” he said.

“How often do you usually eat?” she asked.

“One to two meals a day, with an occasional supplement. I do drink quite a bit of fluids throughout the day, however. “

“Well, I have three meals a day, and occasionally a snack or two,” she said. “You’re more than welcome to join me when I eat or not. It’s up to you. I won’t force you to.” She began moving around her kitchen. “What would you like to do today?”

“More research, I think,” he said. “Learn more about the history of this particular version of Earth, or at least the last few hundred years. The rest I can learn about as needed, I suppose.”

“Then we can go to the library,” she said. “I think Mycroft will probably give you a few days to acclimate before he summons you.”

“More like before he summons _you_ ,” Khan said. “I want to have as little to do with him as possible.”

“Don’t we all,” she said wryly before catching his eye and grinning at him. He didn’t grin back very much, not really, but hers widened for a moment before she turned and began preparing them breakfast. He moved into the kitchen to watch. He’d had to do some cooking, long ago; replicators were an invention that had come about while he’d been in cryogenic sleep the first time. He had been decent enough at it, he supposed. She was pouring water into a machine when she stopped and looked at him. “Do you drink coffee?” 

He nodded. “Usually black.”

“Then I’ll make more,” she said, taking the pot she was holding back to her sink. She filled it with more water and then took it to the machine. “In case I don’t wake up and you want some, this is the coffeemaker. Water in this section, and then one heaping scoop of coffee for each six ounce serving of water in the pot, give or take. Then just close the lid, press the button and let it brew.” Molly did what she had instructed and they both watched the machine, and after a few moments he began to smell coffee. “I like medium roast, but if you want dark roast we can pick some up for you.”

“Coffee is coffee,” Khan said with a shrug. “I doubt I’ll be a connoisseur.”

“You say that now,” she said. “I was just going to make porridge since its cold outside and maybe top it with some cream and blackberries. You’re more than welcome to take it plain, however.”

“Plain will be fine,” he said. She began to move around her kitchen again. “How long do you think I will be staying with you?”

“Until you feel you’ve acclimated well enough,” she said. “Even if you’ve started working for Mycroft and I’ve gone back to my post at that point. I just…I don’t want you to feel like a fish out of water and be all alone to boot. And it’s nice having company again.”

He was quiet for a moment. Her personal life was her business, but he was curious. “Your former fiancé used to reside here?”

“He’d considered it. I own this place outright. I inherited it from my aunt. He spent a lot of time here, more time than he didn’t. And he was going to move in, but…it didn’t work out.” She looked down at the pot in her hands. “Mycroft told you my rules?”

“He did,” Khan said. “But you have to admit, you did open yourself up to that question. And if we are to be…friendly…I should know at least a bit about your past.”

“Only if I get to learn about yours,” she said.

He considered it. He could give her a doctored version of events, the sanitized Starfleet version, and she would never be the wiser. No one need ever knew his true past. It could stay as dead and buried as those he shared it with, wherever they were now. He made a mental note to ask Mycroft about that. “I can tell you about my past,” he said with a nod.

“All right. But…later. Right now I haven’t had my coffee yet and I feel more human and much more chatty when I’ve had my coffee.”

“Understandable,” he replied with a nod. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“You don’t need to,” she said. “It’s rather nice haven’t someone else in here again. And as long as we’re not chatting about anything really personal or important, I can do that while I’m caffeine deprived.”

He hesitated for a moment, and then leaned against the worktop near the coffeemaker. “What is your normal routine like?” he asked.

“Well, I’m up around this time, and I feed Toby, start my coffee, take a shower, get breakfast, get dressed and then go to work at the hospital. St. Bartholomew’s,” she said. “I do autopsies and laboratory tests on the bodies I do autopsies on. Sometimes I get called out to a crime scene to collect the bodies, but that’s very rare. That usually only happens if there’s unique issues with the body or with transportation of the body, or if the body can’t be moved.”

That was actually interesting to learn. “And you work with the man I resemble?”

“Sometimes,” she said with a nod. “Not always. I work with a lot of detectives at Scotland Yard, and he usually only works with Greg.” She paused. “Detective Lestrade is the more formal way of referring to him.”

“But you call him Greg,” Khan said.

“Well, yes,” she said. “He’s my friend.” She paused in getting things together for the porridge. “I assume Mycroft told you I knew Sherlock was alive when everyone in the world thought he was dead?” Khan nodded. “I watched all of Sherlock’s friends fall apart. All of them. Greg, John, Mrs. Hudson…I may not have been as close before his death, and I probably _should_ have distanced myself, but since I knew the truth I found it easy to comfort them. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard not to blurt out the truth, but I got to be better friends with them in the two years he was gone.”

“And they took the deception well?” he asked, surprised.

Molly nodded. “Trust me, I was just as shocked. I think it was all because they were just so happy he was alive, more than anything else. John had a bit of a harder time with it, but in the end, he came around too.”

He thought for a moment on what Mycroft had said about Sherlock’s friends. “John Watson, correct?”

“Yes,” she said. Then she thought for a moment. “You know, if you’re going to be walking around London, looking like Sherlock and pretending to be a part of his family, you should really learn more about him. Not just what his brother knows, I mean.”

“I would prefer not to spend any more time in his presence,” he said distastefully, making a face.

“Not that,” she said with a soft laugh. “I mean, I can tell you about him, and my experiences with him. And Mycroft, too, so you know more about him as well, though admittedly I hadn’t dealt with him much until Sherlock was gone.”

Khan considered things. It would be worth knowing these things, he supposed, and chances are it would take the focus off of him for some time, allow him the chance to decide what from his own past he would tell her and what parts of the fiction Marcus had developed for him he would choose to pass on as his own. And perhaps by listening to her recount her interactions with the Holmes brothers he could glean more insight into Molly Hooper himself. Finally he nodded. “That sounds like a good way to spend my time.”

“Okay. Then once I have some coffee I’ll start with the first time I met Sherlock,” she said, giving him a warm smile while she went back to preparing them breakfast. He studied her for a moment and then turned his attention to the coffee. This was all going to take some getting used to, he realized, but perhaps Molly whisking him off to her home would be a beneficial thing, in regards to him adapting in what was now a more radically different situation than he had anticipated. At least here he felt a measure of comfort, and it was nice to not be alone. Perhaps this was a good thing after all.


	4. Chapter 4

It didn’t take long for him to settle into a routine similar to the one he’d had once he’d been taken out of his cryogenic stasis the first time, when he’d been working in London. He slept for maybe four hours a night, usually between the hours of one and five AM, and then woke up to have coffee and concentrate on whatever book or website caught his fancy. He found himself getting up long before either Molly or Toby and had taken to beating Molly to feeding Toby, which Toby seemed to appreciate and she didn’t mind, and sometimes the animal would curl up nearby him and purr contentedly when he was done eating. He had thought the sound would annoy him but it was oddly soothing.

He was getting used to more and more of the technology of this era. It was all very outdated by his standards, but Molly had spoken to Mycroft and soon stacks of files had been arriving with specs of the most advanced technology that was in this era that he would have access to. This helped, so as he began studying it and piecing together the functions of what it did he began plotting out what he could replicate easily, what would take more time and what would be a perhaps achievable goal in the near distant future.

He had commandeered Molly’s kitchen table for this purpose and so they had been taking their meals on her sofa, sitting near each other and sharing the small coffee table in front of them. She didn’t seem to mind too much, which surprised him. He had thought she would demand he take it all to the bedroom he was using but she would occasionally go over to the table, lean over and study something, and then go to take care of whatever else she had decided she needed to do. He’d been in her custody for nearly three weeks when he decided to ask her about that particular behaviour, and so he waited for her to arrive home from a day out with her friends. She was home at six on the dot, and he was waiting. “Why do you say nothing about my schematics and papers being all over the table?” he asked.

She gave him a bemused smile. “Good evening to you too, John,” she said, shutting the door behind her. She made her way into her kitchen and after a moment he got up and followed her. She stopped and turned to look at him. “You’re really curious, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I had thought it would annoy you, to have me take up your personal space that way.”

She shrugged slightly. “It’s just a nice reminder I’m sharing my personal space with someone, I suppose. Plus the technology seems to be quite fascinating.” She moved around him and then went to a notebook, picking it up. She flipped back a few pages. “Is this an improved way of synthesizing serums?” she asked when she stopped, pointing to a set of schematics he had drawn up.

He nodded. “I once needed to do something with my blood to help save a young girl,” he said, choosing his words wisely. She didn’t need to know he had been blackmailing the girl’s father to blow up a building. “It made the process much more efficient. That could easily be built with the technology and materials in this time.”

“I see,” she said. She set the notebook down and then pointed to something else. “And this?” she asked.

“This is a bit more far-fetched for the technology now, but if this can be perfected, shuttles can be used to transport people into space,” he said. “These designs, though, would be meant for use in transporting people and goods short distances without the same drawbacks as the aeroplanes that Mycroft sent me specs for.” He fingered the drawings. “I believe this would be similar to the shuttle that crashed, the one I and my compatriots were in.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Do you miss them?” she asked softly.

“I do,” he replied with a nod. “Mycroft said that they were being held in a government facility. There has been too much of that. He’s in the process of having them buried in proper graves.”

“Are you going to visit them?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” he said after some consideration. “I would prefer to remember them as they were, though, when they were alive and vibrant.” He moved away from the table. “Have you lost anyone close to you?”

“My dad,” she said. “He died while I was in university. I almost took a year off to be with my mum but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said that wasn’t what he would have wanted.” She tilted her head slightly. 

“I doubt my family would have enjoyed seeing me in the position I was in,” he said quietly.

“What position?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “With Mycroft?”

He shook his head. He could afford to tell her part of the story of what Marcus did to him. “My technical knowledge was abused, prior to our being brought here. I was tasked with creating weaponry for a grand war.”

“That’s horrible,” she said, her eyes widening.

He nodded. “My family was held for ransom. Things happened, though, and I was put back to slumber, and then I woke up here.”

“Did the war happen?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I rather hope it did not.” He knew he needed to change the subject. “I received a call from Mycroft, even though he’s supposed to communicate with you and have you speak to me. He wants me to start working with others soon.”

“Do you think you’re acclimated to this era yet?” she asked.

“I can pass, I suppose,” he said. “But I should familiarize myself with the London of this era. He wants me to start in two weeks. Will that give you enough time to play tour guide.”

“I think that should be more than enough time,” she said with a smile. “We can start by going somewhere tonight, if you want. I mean, I know we’ve left to get you clothing, but not to actually go out anywhere. We could go to King’s Cross, or—” There was a ringing of her mobile, and she went to her handbag and glanced at it. After a moment, she rejected the call and then turned her phone off. “Sorry.”

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Sherlock,” she said.

He shook his head. He’d had a few other encounters with the famed consulting detective, and one with his partner, the blogger John Watson. Sherlock hadn’t done much more to get on his good side, though John had come off as bland but decent. Still, Molly was fond of them so he supposed he could tolerate them. She, however, didn’t want to seem to deal with him today. “Is he annoying you?”

“He wants body parts,” she said. “And my substitute won’t give them to him.” She gave Khan a smile. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before he decides to pay me a visit in person. Let’s just go out and see what catches our fancy, all right?”

He nodded and then went to the coat rack to get his coat. She let them out and then locked up behind her and they began to walk, keeping up a steady stream of conversation. It wasn’t anything very deep, but it was nice, he supposed. They made their way to an Underground station and then to King’s Cross. He had been on the Underground with her before, seen some of the looks she got, and got into a rather protective stance at one point when someone gave her a bit _too_ much of a leering gaze. The man quickly got the hint and looked away but Molly seemed oblivious.

When they got there he was surprised at the hustle and bustle. It wasn’t that late in the day, he realized, and it was a weekend to boot. Of course people would be out. He sniffed at the air as he smelled something remarkably good and moved towards it, Molly following. “Kimchinary,” he murmured.

“Never eaten here before,” Molly said. “Korean tacos, eh?”

“Sounds interesting,” Khan said with a nod. 

“Well, let’s try them,” she said with a smile as they got in the queue. When they got to the window Molly ordered a Gochujang chicken thigh taco while Khan ordered one of each. It didn’t take long for them to get them, and when he took a bite of the grilled bulgogi hanger steak taco he decided it was definitely something he wanted to order again. Molly seemed to enjoy hers as well as she went to order a second one when she finished hers. When they were done they began to walk around. “Are you interested in the arts?” she asked.

“Not particularly,” he said.

“Oh,” she replied quietly.

He looked over at her. She seemed to want to go see something. If it made her happy, it couldn’t be _too_ bad, he thought. A moment later he realized that struck him as odd, that he cared what she wanted, but then he brushed it aside as not wanting to jeopardize a good living situation. “If there is some art exhibit you’d like to see, I’m sure I could tolerate it,” he said after a moment.

She brightened and he was struck by how nice she looked when she smiled. She smiled a lot, but right now she looked excited and her face lit up and it made her look more pleasant than usual. He needed to reign in these errant thoughts. “I thought we could go to the Auto Italia, see if there’s anything going on there. I like to go every once in a while, but it’s more interesting going with company.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” he said with a slight shrug.

She impulsively reached over for his hand and grasped it, pulling him along. Her hand was quite small but it fit well in his. He liked the feel of it, he realized. She kept a firm hold until they got there and then frowned. “It’s not open,” she said.

“Well, we can see what else is,” he said.

“Maybe something modern?” she suggested. “I bet the Piano Nobile is open.”

“Then let’s go there,” he said. She still did not remove her hand as they walked, and when they got to the building they saw it was open. They made their way inside and began to walk around, with Molly every once in a while pointing something out. It wasn’t so bad, he thought to himself as he studied the art, and as he kept glancing at Molly he saw she was enjoying herself so it wasn’t a complete waste of an evening.

When they had viewed everything they left, and it was only then Molly seemed to realize she’d been holding his hand. “Oh!” she said, letting go. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It was nice, I suppose,” he said with a slight shrug.

“Oh,” she said quietly. She looked over at him. “You didn’t enjoy the art very much, did you?”

“It wasn’t the most thrilling way to spend an evening, but you seemed happy,” he said.

“Well, I had a good time,” she said with a smile before leaning in and kissing his cheek softly. “I’m glad you came out with me.” She made to move away but he reached over for her, placing his hands on her waist. She looked up at him with a frown. “John?”

He tried to think of what to say, to explain he had had no plans of getting close to her, of wanting to let her into his life or to be a part of hers, to say he’d wanted to keep his distance because it was safer that way, but he looked down at her and he couldn’t get the words out. After a moment he let her go. “Never mind,” he said with a sigh.

“Did you want to kiss me?” she asked quietly.

“I’d considered it,” he said.

“Why didn’t you?”

“It would cause too many problems,” he said. “For you and for me.”

She studied him for a moment and then nodded. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “One day you won’t be staying with me, and you won’t need me around. Maybe it’s best if we’re just friends.”

“If even that,” he said quietly.

“I’d like to be friends, at least,” she said, looking at him with a small smile. “So that way you have at least one.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I suppose one wouldn’t hurt,” he said. “But just friends. Anything else is asking for trouble.”

She nodded. “All right,” she said. “Let’s get back home. I’m sure Sherlock’s there, waiting, wanting me to get him a severed hand and foot and maybe an entire arm as well.”

Khan made a face. “He is an extremely odd man,” he said.

Molly gave him a smirk. “And just think: you’re supposed to be related to him.”

He sighed. “Don’t remind me.” He nodded to the nearest underground station. “Back to your home, then?” he asked. She nodded and they made their way to the station, keeping nearly in step. He had a lot to think about, a lot to sort through, and he had the feeling there was going to be a lot on his mind in the next few weeks.


	5. Chapter 5

He felt he had a good enough grip on the basics of this era, this universe, by the time he started the task Mycroft had set in front of him. It was much the same as it had been with Starfleet, though the end result was different. These things he was being tasked to build would not necessarily be used to help tip the hand in Britain’s favor in a great war. Most were to simply be extraordinary scientific advancements that would place the UK at the top of the list for scientific achievement. If any of these things could be weaponized, he supposed that would come later.

A week after he started working with the researchers and the technicians and the scientists Molly went back to her position at St. Bart’s. There was a subtle shift in the routine they had established, now that they were both out of her home more often. She made it a point to talk with him in the evenings, when she made her meal, and he chose to make that the main meal of the day which he consumed so that he would have a reason to be in her company.

Since the day outside the art gallery he had been looking for excuses to _be_ in her company, he realized. He wanted to stay close, under the guise of friendship. He was, he realized, attracted to her. This could pose problems. He knew that she was most likely physically attracted to him, due to his resemblance to Sherlock Holmes, but on any other level, he was not sure. As he liked being in her company, he did not want to jeopardize things by rocking the boat too much, but he wanted to be near her.

He had been puzzling her out and found her to be, on the surface, exactly what she seemed: a nice, shy and even tempered woman with a large heart who had been wounded in the past, taken advantage of, who guarded her heart a bit more than most. But there was more to it than that. She seemed to be far more intelligent than she let on; he knew Sherlock would call her at times, ask for information, and she would rattle off information that surprised even him as though it was nothing at all. She was quite tough as well; he knew she took kickboxing lessons at a local gymnasium and she appeared to be quite fit for someone so petite. The more he thought he knew her the more he wasn’t sure he knew her at all, and the more he was eager to learn.

They had been in this new routine for two weeks when he was surprised with a call on his mobile, asking him to go back to the flat early. There wasn’t much need for him to be at the converted warehouse they were using for the time being; the projects were still in the development stages and they would take weeks, if not months, before any building were to be done. If anyone needed him desperately they could call him. He made his way back to the flat to see Molly there, curled up on the sofa in a ball, and a woman he didn’t recognize nearby. “My husband said you two were practically twins but I didn’t believe it,” she said with a smile when she looked up at Khan. She stood up and offered her hand. “I’m Mary Watson.”

Khan took her hand and shook it. “John Harrison,” he said.

“You sound like Sherlock, too,” she said. She then sat down next to Molly again. “She had a rather unwelcome visitor at her morgue today, and it didn’t go well. We were supposed to have lunch and I could see she wasn’t dealing with it well so I told her bosses she’d gotten ill and I drove her back over, helped her get settled. She asked me to call you. Said she didn’t want to be alone.”

He nodded. “Who was the visitor?” he asked.

“Her ex-fiancé,” Mary said as she stood, rubbing her belly slightly. It was then Khan realized she was pregnant. Mary looked at his gaze and smiled. “Our first. Completely unexpected, too. But she’s welcome.”

“Congratulations,” he murmured, moving his gaze to Molly. “Has she had anything to drink?”

“No, but I expect she’ll want to. It wasn’t a pleasant encounter.” Mary reached over and patted Khan on the shoulder before moving away from Molly and letting herself out.

Khan went to the door and locked it behind her before moving back to the sofa. “Molly?” he asked.

“I hate him,” she said, choking back a sob. She looked up and only then did he realize she’d been sobbing. “He came to _my_ work to try and get back together with me, after everything that happened, after everything he said, and when I refused…” Another tear ran down her cheek. “I guess he never really cared.”

He felt a flame of pure hatred inside him for this man he’d never met. It didn’t matter what he had said, he deserved a very brutal beating at his hands. He would show no mercy. “I’m sorry,” he replied, trying to figure out a way to get the man’s name so he could track him down.

She studied him and then her eyes went wide. “Don’t you dare do anything, John. Don’t go after him, don’t hurt him, just…don’t. Just leave him be.”

He blinked. “How did you know…?”

“I’m good at studying people. Your eyes just went so cold. Sherlock does the same thing when he gets upset.”

 _Figures_ , he thought to himself. He sat down on the sofa next to her. “Well, if I can’t beat him to within an inch of his life, what can I do?” he asked.

“Just…I’d like ice cream and crisps and fattening foods and company, I suppose,” she said. “I just want to not be alone.”

“You definitely aren’t alone,” he replied. “Even if I wasn’t here, you had your friend Mary. And I’m sure there are other people who would be there for you.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” she said with a sniff. Then her eyes widened. “You were working! Oh my God, you were working and I pulled you away. Oh, I’m so selfish. I’m so sorry, John.”

“It’s all right,” he said with a shrug. “If anyone needs me, that’s what that infernal mobile is for.”

She smiled slightly. “They are a pain sometimes, aren’t they?” she asked.

“More than sometimes,” he said. “They remind me of the communicators we had, that could track our every movement, if it was needed.”

“That sounds horrid,” she said. “Though I suppose GPS does the same thing here. Mycroft could probably pull the strings to track you down anytime, anywhere.”

“Don’t remind me,” he said. He leaned back against the sofa. “Ice cream and crisps and fattening foods, you say?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Would you go get me some?”

“I suppose I could,” he said. “Anything in particular you want?”

“If you go to Tesco, I’d like two things of Speculoos Speculove ice cream and a bag of Mixed Root Vegetable Crisps from Tyrrells,” she said. “And maybe some banoffee pie?”

“I’ll get those for you,” he said. “Anything else?”

She shook her head. “No, I think that will do. I think the company will help more than the food today.”

“All right,” he said with a nod. He stood up again and then headed to the door, unlocking it and letting himself out. He locked up behind him and made his way to the nearest Tesco, going around and getting everything. He also picked up a few ready meals, things he knew she liked to eat, so it wasn’t _all_ fattening food at her fingertips. He paid for it all and made his way back and then let himself in, finding her sitting up, flipping through the channels on the telly. “I’ve got it.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully, getting off the sofa and following him into the kitchen. He pulled everything out, putting it on the worktop to let her divvy it up how she saw fit. She ended up leaving the frozen pie out to defrost and put one of the things of ice cream in the freezer while grabbing a spoon and taking the other one and the bag of crisps back to the sofa. She sat down, cross-legged, and then opened up the ice cream. “I still feel bad I had you come home from what you were doing just so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“I can’t do it all the time, but once or twice won’t hurt,” he said. He looked down at his hands. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask Sherlock to spend time with you.”

“I doubt Sherlock even realizes I’m not engaged anymore,” she said with a sigh, taking a bite of her ice cream. “He seems so preoccupied lately. I honestly don’t even think he’s realized much about any of us these days. Whatever he’s involved in, it’s got most of his attention.”

He kept his opinion that Sherlock was probably a shite friend in general to himself. She didn’t need to hear that right now, even if it could be the truth, based on what he’d seen. “Then at least I’m here,” he said.

“Yeah. You are a good friend, John,” she said with a smile. “I’m glad I ended up mixed up in all this.”

“I’m glad you did, too,” he said. He turned his attention to the television. “Anything in particular you want to watch?”

“I’m rather in the mood for one of my action movies,” she said. “Something with a lot of explosions and violence. Something like…” She trailed off as she thought. “’Mr. & Mrs. Smith.’ I kind of like the havoc they wreak, even if they get a happy ending.”

He nodded and got up, going to her films. He found it and put it into her DVD player. He’d learned to work that piece of technology fairly early on, when he began to start watching documentaries on various things. He went back and settled onto the sofa and picked up the remote, hitting the play button once it got to that point. He had to admit, this film was rather interesting, he thought. The fight scenes were well done, and looked rather authentic. By the time the film was over Molly had finished her ice cream and gone halfway through the bag of crisps. “Anything else you want to watch?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I think I want to just lay down for a while. I saw you bought food for us so I didn’t have to cook.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He stilled when she pulled away. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t kiss my cheek,” he said quietly.

“Why not?” she asked curiously.

“Because when you do I get the urge to simply turn my head so you have to kiss me on the lips,” he said, turning to face her. “And it’s getting harder and harder to resist the urge.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small O shape. “I see,” she said after a moment.

He looked at her and licked his lips, and then after a moment leaned forward. “I would like to kiss you now, actually,” he said, caressing her cheek softly.

She nodded just slightly. “All right,” she said. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It wasn’t a possessive kiss; rather it was tentative, soft and searching. He wasn’t quite sure how she would react, considering the circumstances. She hesitated for a moment and then kissed him back, keeping the kiss soft and not trying to control it. Soon enough she pulled away. “That was nice.”

“It was,” he murmured.

She pulled away more to look at him. “I need to think about things a bit. Sort things out. I…it…” She looked down. “I’m sorry, John.”

“It’s all right,” he said, pulling away more. “Understandable, I suppose.”

She stood up and then hesitated. “If I do decide to move forward, to…you know…start dating again, you’ll be at the top of my list,” she said, giving him a small grin.

He nodded, the edges of his lips curling up. It was something, at least. She may fight it a bit but she felt something was there as well. If she needed time, he could give her time. It would help him to figure out exactly what he wanted in all of this, too.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a few days after their first kiss and he wasn’t quite sure how to act around Molly, which was…strange. She wasn’t pretending it didn’t happen but she wasn’t talking about it, either. But at least she wasn’t ignoring him. He was quite thankful for that. This particular morning he knew Molly would be getting up earlier than usual, and so he’d already set the coffee to brew and begun to make something for her to eat when there was a pounding on the door. Toby had been curled up in his lap as he read a book on the history of the United States and the sudden noise caused the cat to dig his claws into Khan’s thigh. He grit his teeth as he removed Toby from his lap and stalked to the door, opening it and glaring at the men in front of him. “Yes?” he asked, his tone clipped.

John blinked. “Blimey, you two really are almost twins,” he said. “He answers the door exactly the same way.”

“Just looks wise,” Sherlock said from his side. Khan turned and gave him a pitying look. He was obviously _not_ sober.

“What do you need?” Khan asked.

“Molly,” John said. “I need Molly to run a drug test on this idiot.”

“If you need a drug test then you’re blind,” Khan said as Molly came out behind him. “My cousin obviously went back to old habits.”

Sherlock snorted. “But they’re the best ones for the case.”

Molly moved next to him. “What’s going on?” she asked, adjusting the tie of her dressing gown. Khan glanced down at her as her eyes widened. “What in the bloody hell…?”

“Went to go rescue a friend’s son from a drug den and found _him_ there too,” John said.

“Sherlock?” Molly asked, standing directly in front of him. “Sherlock, are you _high_?”

Sherlock actually looked a bit ashamed. “For a case.”

Molly suddenly got a very steely look on her face. “John, take him to the path lab at St. Bart’s. Get a urine sample for me. If you have to stand next to him and hold the cup steady, so be it. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” John nodded, leading Sherlock away to a car, and Molly firmly shut the door behind them. Her fists were clenched by her side. “That absolute fool-headed _arse_!” she shouted.

“So you saw as plainly as I saw he’s intoxicated,” Khan said.

“Heroin, most likely. That was his former drug of choice.” She shook her head. “What on earth… _why_ would he go back to that? Why would he throw everything away to go back to drugs?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” he said, not even phrasing it as a question.

She glared at him. “You’re not helping.”

“It could be my arrival and friction it’s caused with his brother while I’ve been here,” he said after a moment. “Or, as he said, it could be a case. If he’s as dedicated to his work as I’m lead to believe, he could go so far as to use a drug to blend in.”

“Yes, but…” she began, and then shook her head. “I just hope it isn’t heroin. If he slides back into that I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Did you know him when he was an addict?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, but I had a friend who was an addict. She didn’t make it, unfortunately. And I’m not in the mood to lose another friend to it.” She sighed. “I need to get dressed and then get a cab to the hospital. Will you be all right on your own?”

“I will,” he said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m considering exploring a bit. I have to at some point.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true,” she said. “Just remember, if you get lost, you have my mobile number. And you know the address here, right?”

“Yes,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, I have my key and yes, I am perfectly capable of using the credit and debit cards in my name and I’m fairly sure I have the currency down pat. I have gone out in the world at least a few times on my own.”

“All right,” she said. “Then I’ll leave you be while I go deal with _him_.” She made her way upstairs, leaving him on his own again.

It was only six forty-nine in the morning, which meant very little would be open, but he remembered Molly said the coffee shop on the corner would be. He went to his bedroom and got his keys and his wallet and then went back and put on his coat before grabbing the book he had been reading. He made his way to the coffee shop and went inside. It was a cozy place, meant more for people to relax for a time than to rush in and out with the food. There had been places like that in the future he had been awoken in, but it had seemed like more and more people had been on the go then, that there had been more interest in going to the next thing then in taking time to enjoy the present. He decided to try a different type of coffee, getting a dark roast, and took his drink to a seat in the back. It was comfortable, much like Molly’s chair that he’d claimed as his own, and he felt he could easily spend some time there reading. He began to sip the coffee and decided he would definitely ask for some of the dark roast next time she went to do the shopping.

He stayed there for a few hours before deciding to leave. He wanted peace and quiet, and decided to see what else appealed to him. He neared Hyde Park’s entrance and paused. He knew the significance of the park in the history of both his own world and this one. He decided to go in and visit the place known as Speakers’ Corner, see if anyone was saying anything of importance or if they were just spouting nonsense. It took him some time to find his way there but when he did he saw a person speaking passionately about human rights. He gave the woman some of his attention while concentrating on his surroundings and thinking to himself. Soon she was done and an older gentleman took his place, talking about the government and changes that had to be made. When he was done, someone else stood, a girl no older than a teenager, and she began talking about peace in the Middle East.

He had no idea how long he sat and listened, processing what these people were saying with what he had learned of modern history through the websites he had visited and books he had read. He just knew it had been quite a while by the time he finally left the park and made his way back to the entrance to go back to Molly’s home. He let himself in and saw Molly in the kitchen, angrily chopping up vegetables. “Heroin?” he asked.

She jumped slightly and dropped the knife on the worktop before turning. “You startled me,” she said, putting a hand to her chest.

“My apologies,” he said with a nod.

“I tried calling you but you didn’t respond,” she said.

“The…mobile…was the one thing I left here,” he said, not adding he had done so on purpose. He was not fond of that particular piece of technology, it reminding him greatly of the communicators Marcus used to keep track of his every movement. “I had wanted peace and quiet today.”

“Oh,” she said with a nod. “Well, to answer your question, yes. The idiot tested positive for heroin. Oh, I smacked him good for it, too. Three times.”

A small smile cracked the corner of Khan’s mouth. “He must not have enjoyed that.”

“I don’t care if he did or not,” she said, turning back to the cutting board and the vegetables. She picked up the knife again. “He deserved it for abusing such a beautiful brain.”

“I see,” he said, trying to keep his voice devoid of emotion.

“I’m making stew tonight. Lamb stew, if you want some,” she said. “I figured I’d freeze a few portions for later, but I was in the mood for it.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. I have yet to eat today.”

She looked over at him. “It’s almost one in the afternoon,” she said.

“As I’ve said before, one to two meals a day is all I need. This will be fine.”

“All right,” she said dubiously. She turned back to the vegetables and started chopping again. “It should be ready by five. It will taste better by tomorrow, but what we have tonight won’t be so bad.”

“Then I’ll make sure I’m ready to eat by five,” he said with a nod.

“And…maybe you could tell me a bit about what it was like in the future, in your universe? I mean, more than the little bit I already know?” she asked tentatively. “To get my mind off things.”

“I suppose,” he said with a nod.

“Good,” she said, flashing him a quick smile. He moved out of the kitchen back to his chair and settled in, beginning to read again. After some time he heard Molly begin to sing to herself quietly. He closed the book and began to listen. She had a rather nice voice. Not nice enough to sing professionally, but it was pleasant to listen to. She had done it a few other times and he had always paused to take notice. There were little things she did that he was filing away for some reason. Little things of note that made her uniquely her.

Soon she stopped and he picked up his book again. A few minutes later she joined him in the sitting room, going to the sofa and picking up her own book. They sat in a companionable silence for quite a long time, and it was nice. Then her mobile began to ring and she answered it. He ignored it until she gasped, and then he looked at her. She sat rigidly after that, and when she lowered the phone but stayed silent he frowned. “Molly?” he asked.

“He’s…” she said. Then she shook her head. “Not important. Not important at all. I want freshly baked bread with the stew. Rolls, I think. I’m going to make some.” She stood up and tossed her mobile on the sofa and went into the kitchen. After a moment he set his book down and went to see who had called her. Mary Watson, the caller ID said. That was curious. Her precious Sherlock must have had another major cock-up.

He set the phone down and went into the kitchen. Molly was moving around her kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, pulling things out. “He’s not worth the aggravation, even if he is your friend,” he said. “He was high as a kite this morning, so whatever he’s done, keep that in mind.”

She stilled. “You snooped.”

“I wondered who called,” he said with a shrug.

“Mary called to tell me he’s proposing to her best friend,” she said quietly, hanging her head. He studied her for a moment and he could see her shoulders were shaking slightly and she had a death grip on the bowl in her hands. Ah, yes. Despite it all, she still fancied him. The news he cared for someone enough to devote his life to them and not her was a blow, especially in the face of the fact he had thought something was happening between them.

“Then he’s an arse with no taste,” he said, not sure if what he said would help or not, but he felt the need to say _something_. Molly was kind, far kinder than she needed to be. Far kinder to men such as him and Sherlock than they deserved to have in their lives. She deserved better than a man who said he cared and then hurt her in such a way.

She turned and looked at him, a small smile on her face. Then, as though she wasn’t sure she should, she came over to him and leaned in, standing on her toes slightly, and kissed his cheek softly. “Thank you, John,” she said.

He warmed slightly, which was unusual. He never got embarrassed over anything. What had come over him? “Well, it’s the truth,” he said.

“But it helps to hear it,” she said. She turned back to what she had been doing and he lingered for a moment before leaving her be. He needed to examine what had just happened, he thought to himself. He couldn’t afford to let her affect him like that. No, he needed to let her have as minimal an effect on him as possible. He didn’t want to think about what would happen otherwise. He made to leave but then she paused. “John?”

“Yes?” he asked.

“About…us,” she said. “About our kiss, the one…” She paused and took a deep breath. “Did it mean anything to you?”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I hadn’t wanted to,” he said, looking over at her.

She paused. “It seems so silly to be so upset over the fact he’s going to marry someone when he’s never been interested in me, not in the slightest,” she said. “I just don’t want you thinking I see you as a substitute, since you two could practically be twins.”

“I won’t,” he said. “Or at least I’ll try not to.”

She gave him a small smile. “Good,” she said, before turning back to what she was doing. He relaxed a bit at that. Whatever her feelings for Sherlock were, she was not discounting him completely. She was not writing him off as a poor man’s substitute, as her fiancé had been. This was good. He could live with this.

He made his way back out to her sitting room, deciding to go over the schematics for a new invention that was based on something he had developed for Marcus to use against the Klingons to disable the electronics on their warships. He knew Mycroft would appreciate something that had a more targeted range when it came to EMP weaponry, and so he had been working on it diligently. There were changes, of course, but he was slowly working them out. After a while, though, he decided he would rather spend time with Molly. She had come back into the sitting room and turned on the telly, idly flipping through the channels. “Is there perhaps a film you would like to watch?” he asked.

“Is it bothering you, my changing the channels all the time?” she asked.

He shook his head. “You had just offered to work on expanding my knowledge of pop culture, that’s all. I thought now might be as good a time as any.”

“We could do that,” she said with a smile. She got up and went to the bookshelf which housed her quite impressive DVD collection. “I’m rather in the mood to laugh, considering it’s been a miserable day.”

“So we’ll be watching a comedy?” he asked, moving to the sofa.

“I think we should watch a _specific_ comedy,” she said with a smile, pulling out a DVD and then bringing it over to him. “Some of the best British comedy out there.”

“’Monty Python and the Holy Grail,’” he read before turning it over and looking at the back. “It looks rather absurd.”

“It is, but that’s what makes it fun,” she said. He handed it back to him and she went to put it into the DVD player. “And I can explain the jokes, if you need me to.”

“I just might,” he said. Once it was in she came back to the sofa and then sat very close to him. He hesitated a moment, then put his arm around her shoulders and she curled up into him. This wasn’t that bad of a position to be in, he decided after a few moments.

She started the movie and he tried to pay attention but it was a bit too absurd for his taste. It did have some interesting moments, he thought, but not as many as he would have liked. And he found himself being distracted by Molly being close. After about a half hour she lifted her head up to look at him. “You’re not enjoying this,” she said.

“It’s not something I find all that enjoyable,” he agreed. “Apparently I don’t have much of a sense of humor.”

“We’ll have to work on getting you one,” she said.

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you going to take charge of that personally?” he asked.

“I suppose I’ll have to,” she said with a smile. “It will give me an excuse to spend more time with you.”

“I like the idea of you spending time with me,” he said.

“Good,” she said, before leaning in and kissing him softly. He had to admit it was rather nice being kissed by her. Her lips were still just as soft and sweet as they had been the last time, and the kiss was just as gentle as the other one had been. He tangled his fingers in her hair as he kissed her back, forgetting for a moment that he hadn’t wanted to let her close. Right now, he wanted her as close as she was willing to be. When she pulled away she looked at him. “You are a very good kisser, John.”

“I have had some practice,” he said.

“Ah,” she said, reaching for the collar of his shirt and beginning to play with the button. “And are you good at anything else?” Before he could answer, though, her mobile began to ring.

“Ignore it,” he said, moving forward to kiss her again. She nodded slightly, kissing him back as she reached over for it to reject the call. She let the mobile drop from her grasp as she settled her hands on his shoulders. A few moments later, though, the caller called back. She pulled away as she bent over to pick it up, frowning when she saw who was calling. “Who is it?”

“John,” she said, accepting the call. John must have started talking the moment she accepted the call, because her eyes went wide a moment later. She listened in stunned silence, and then pulled away from Khan. “I’ll be there as quickly as I can,” she said into the phone before hanging up.

“What happened?” he asked, looking up at her.

“Sherlock got shot,” she said. “They…they don’t know if he’ll make it. I have to go.” She slipped on her coat and then put on her scarf.

He got up quickly. “I’m coming with you,” he said, moving towards her.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “John, his parents are going to be there. There could be questions, and even though I’m sure you could probably do well enough it’s not worth it to tempt fate. Just…stay here, all right? If I need you, I’ll call.” She leaned over and kissed him softly, this time on the lips as opposed to the cheek, and then went to her front door and let herself out, leaving him alone in the flat. After a moment he turned off the television and went back to the table and his schematics. Sherlock wasn’t his concern, he was hers. If she needed him, she would call. Right now, it was best to concentrate on something important, and not think about the fact that he would always be second best to Sherlock Holmes in her eyes, whether he wanted to be or not.


	7. Chapter 7

He was still awake when she came home from the hospital. She said he was going to pull through, but other than that she was fairly mum on Sherlock and the shooting. It all seemed to be rather hush hush, the circumstances, and he got the feeling Molly was going to be one of the ones to whom the full details weren’t going to be shared. She called out from her post the next day but she didn’t ask him to do the same. He went to his own place of employment but did check up on her repeatedly, and by the time he got back she seemed to be in a better mood. By the next day things were relatively fine, and aside from the idiot leaving his hospital room and disappearing and everyone worrying, by the end of the week everything was back to normal.

Khan, however, was in a strange position. There was _something_ between them, some attraction brewing, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it. There was a sexual element to it, obviously. He was having very interesting and erotic dreams about her and having to deal with them by hand and by cold showers in the morning. But there was more to it than that. He was allowing himself to become…attached. That was what it was. He was forming an attachment to her, similar but different to what he had formed to his family. He wanted to form a bond with her, but he knew that was a very bad idea. No good could come of it. But the need was there.

He was in the kitchen having his second cup of coffee when she came in. it was earlier than usual for her, he realized as he glanced at the clock on the wall, and she looked like she’d had a hard night’s sleep. She went to the coffeemaker without a word and poured herself a cup. “It’s dark roast,” he said.

“I’ll add extra cream, then,” she said flatly.

He raised an eyebrow. “In a mood?”

“Horrible night’s sleep,” she said with a sigh. “I just couldn’t get any rest.” She went to her refrigerator and got out the cream she used. It was sweet cream, flavored to taste like hazelnut. He didn’t understand the appeal but she enjoyed it. She poured a dash into her coffee, and then a little more before stirring it in. She took a sip and then blinked. “You like your coffee strong.”

“I usually drink it all before you get up to make yours,” he said with a faintly amused grin. “But I sleep far less than you do.”

“Do you ever find it hard to sleep?” she asked.

“At times,” he replied, thinking back to the dreams he’d had the previous night. He’d woken up after having a very interesting one involving her mouth on certain parts of him, but he was careful not to think too much on it for a repeat of what he woke up with. He had some more of his coffee. “It’s your day off. You could always try and go back to sleep.”

She shook her head. “Too much to do,” she said. “Christmas decorating and all that.”

He made a face. “I think I’ll leave the house, then.”

“You don’t like Christmas?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I don’t see the point,” he said with a shrug. “I never celebrated many holidays, and where I’m from we had quite a few.”

“I wish you would tell me more about what it was like where you were from,” she said, looking over at him. “It’s just…you’re from the future, from a whole alternate universe, and you talk about it so little. Was it a very bad place?”

“No, it was almost close to utopia, I suppose,” he said. “There were troubles, of course, but not too many.”

“What kinds of troubles?” she asked.

He looked at his coffee. “Not all alien races want to be bothered,” he said. “Not all of them are friendly. Some want to conquer and rule the galaxy. We were…ill-equipped to deal with them.”

“So there was fighting?” she asked.

“Not presently, but there was going to be,” he said before having some more of his coffee. “I’d prefer not to talk about it. I don’t like talking about my past, if I can help it. Too many things I don’t want to remember. Too many things I would rather forget.”

“You have secrets,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Many of them. Not all of them are pleasant.”

“Are there any you can share?” she asked, looking at him. “I mean, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I mean, I probably shouldn’t ask at all. It’s not my place, and—”

“Khan,” he said quietly. “My real name is Khan. Khan Noonien Singh. John Harrison is a pseudonym that was given to me for work I did, and I felt it would be easier to use here. Most people would not believe a person who looks as I do to be of Indian descent, even though I am. John Harrison is more…appropriate, in society.”

Molly nodded. “Do you have a preference?” she asked.

“It is best to stick with John Harrison,” he said. “Less confusion that way.”

“All right,” she said with a nod. He turned to leave and was almost out of the kitchen when she spoke. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“You know, if you do have secrets, it’s all right,” she said. “It doesn’t change my opinion of you. I still like you.”

“You do?” he asked, turning to face her.

She nodded, giving him a wide smile. “Very much.”

He gave her a small smile back. “I’ll have to remember that,” he said.

“Well, I’m going to start decorating soon, so you might want to find thins to occupy yourself,” she said with a smile.

“I may take my laptop to the coffee shop on the corner and be there,” he said. “It will be open soon.”

“All right,” she said with a nod. “I do feel bad running you out of the house. I’ll try and make it up to you.”

“How?” he asked.

“I’ll make something very nice for dinner tonight,” she said. “And maybe even some homemade biscuits.”

He gave her a small grin. “I suppose that would be adequate.”

“Take your mobile with you. I’ll call you when I’m done, all right? That way you don’t have to stay out all day.”

“All right,” he said with a nod before turning again and leaving the room. He went up to his own room and got dressed before grabbing his laptop and going back downstairs. Molly was humming to herself as she began cooking herself breakfast, and he watched for a moment before he went to the door and let himself out, heading to the coffee shop. He settled into one of the booths and then began to do more research into the various things he’d been looking into.

After an hour he decided, out of curiosity, to look at gifts, see if there were various things Molly would like. It wouldn’t hurt to give her something for the holidays, he supposed. It was probably expected, and it would make her happy. He went through website after website, occasionally ordering a gift if it looked as though it was something she would truly enjoy. He would have someone else make them look presentable, he decided, because he would make a hash of it.

When he got the text from Molly hours later that she was done he packed up his things and went back home. He noticed it looked very different before he even opened the door, spying the wreath hanging on the door now. He opened it and let himself in, warily looking around. She had definitely decorated overzealously, he thought. But it didn’t look garish, rather looking…homely. When he got into the sitting room he saw a tree in the corner, though it was bare. “I figured I’d decorate that later,” Molly said from the sofa. “Just waiting for the biscuits to finish so I can put the roast in. There’s a few batches already done, though, if you want some.”

He nodded and set the bag with his laptop down in his chair before going into the kitchen. The biscuits were still warm, and he took a bite. They were definitely vastly superior to the store-bought ones. He finished the one in his hand quickly and then took two more and put them on a small plate before going back out to Molly. “Hoping to have friends over to decorate the tree?”

She nodded. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said. “But I thought it would be nice.”

“I might be persuaded to help,” he said.

“With more of those?” she asked with a smile.

“That could be a start,” he said, picking up a biscuit and taking a bite. “But also because you said I should socialize. It was one of your conditions for me staying here.”

“Well, then it’s good you’re considering it,” she said with a smile. When he was done chewing she leaned forward and brushed a crumb away from his mouth before leaning in and kissing him softly. “I’m glad.”

“I am too,” he murmured when she pulled away and then moved her entire body closer, relaxing her head on his shoulder. She still wanted to be close, he realized. Now it was just a matter of how close he was willing to let her get. He knew it would not be a good idea to let her get close emotionally, but as he shifted slightly to pull her even closer he realized he didn’t care. He had an opportunity to live a different type of life here, and he should take advantage of it.


	8. Chapter 8

Eventually, time passed and Christmas Day rolled around. Khan woke up at his usual time and was surprised that Molly was awake as early as he was. She was already in the kitchen, making coffee for the both of them, when he came down. “Happy Christmas,” she said, giving him a smile.

He nodded in response. “I suppose.” He’d heard the scientists and technicians and everyone else he worked with chattering on about it, and of course there were the preparations for the holiday at Molly’s home. It was her home, she had every right to decorate as she so chose, but he just couldn’t understand the fuss. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Well, I’m always up early on Christmas morning,” she said. “Ever since I was a very young girl, I was always up before everyone else in my family.” She gestured to the coffee. “I knew you’d be up soon so I made your coffee instead, if you don’t mind sharing. I can handle dark roast for a cup or two.”

“You can have some,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said. She finished setting up the coffee and then pressed the button to let it brew. “I have some gifts for you. I know we didn’t say anything about exchanging gifts, but I thought you might want something.”

“I have some for you as well,” he said. “The largest ones are under the tree but the rest are in my room.”

“All of yours are under the tree already,” she said. “I’ll go pull them out.”

He nodded again and then went to his room to get the gifts. He’d had someone else wrap them for him, so they looked very lovely, and he was sure that she would appreciate them. He had seven of them for her, which was probably more than he had needed to get her, but he hadn’t been able to narrow it down any further than that. It took a moment to get them all situated in his arms but he managed to get them all downstairs without tripping over his feet. He found Molly sitting in front of the tree, a small pile of brightly wrapped packages in front of her. He did a quick count and saw there were at least ten, and he raised his eyebrow. “That’s quite a few gifts.”

“I didn’t think you’d gotten many gifts before, just based on what you’ve told me, so I may have gone a little overboard,” she said, blushing.

He set his gifts down on the floor in front of the ones she had gotten for him, and then moved closer to her, squatting in front of her. He leaned in and kissed her softly, though he was slightly hesitant about it. But she reached up and framed his face, kissing him back, and he relaxed. When he pulled back he looked at her, a small grin on his face. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until you’ve opened them and seen if you like them,” she said with a laugh. He sat down and then she handed him a rather large gift. When he took it from her he felt it was heavy. “I think you’ll enjoy this one.”

He nodded and opened the present up, taking the paper off carefully. It was a book of highlights in the field of science and technology for the last hundred years. He had the feeling he was going to enjoy reading that, he thought as he flipped through it. “This looks interesting,” he said.

“I thought so too,” she said.

He set it aside and then he picked up one of the larger boxes. “These are breakable, so be careful with them,” he said.

“All right,” she said, setting the box on her lap. She undid the ribbon and the paper and then opened the box, pulling out a wineglass. He eyes went wide as she looked at it. It had a peacock etched on it, with the tail curling down to the stem. “This is lovely, John.”

“There are eight of them, in case you have a dinner party,” he said. “That was what was suggested when I saw them.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, leaning over after moving them off her lap and kissing his cheek. “I may have to throw a party just to use these.” He felt quite pleased that she enjoyed them. “All right. Two more from me since they’re not really all that special.”

She handed him two more boxes, both the same size. He set one of them down next to him and opened the top one up. Inside was a black button down shirt, and when he pulled it out he saw it was long sleeved. It felt quite soft. He set it aside and then opened up the second box, seeing a dark grey shirt of the same material inside. “These are nice,” he said.

“They’re Egyptian cotton,” she said. “Very high thread count.”

“I may have to wear one of them soon,” he said with a nod. He looked at the packages, and then handed her another one. “I felt this might be useful, as you hinted you have one and you get a new one each year.”

She gave him a quizzical look and then began to open the package. Her eyes widened when she saw it was leather bound journal, but she had it upside down. She smiled when she flipped it over, and her finger traced the brass ornaments in the corners and the key in the center. “This is beautiful,” she breathed. “I hadn’t bought one yet so this is just perfect.”

“I’m glad you can use it,” he said.

She looked down. “Most of my gifts to you are just practical, and yours are just so…thoughtful and beautiful. I feel so silly for not being more creative.”

“I like practical,” he said. She looked up at him and gave him a shy smile. “I hadn’t expected anything, so these gifts are very nice.”

“Well, here are two more,” she said, handing him a large box and an envelope. He took the envelope off the box and opened that first. Inside were a few gift cards to various places in London, including cinemas, restaurants and bookstores. He looked up and she gave him a wide grin “For you to broaden your knowledge of pop culture and modern food. There’s quite a bit of money on each.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said. “I have my own money.”

“Well, maybe you could use some of them to treat me,” she said, ducking her head slightly.

“Perhaps I could,” he said. He put the gift cards back into the envelope and then went to the large box. He opened it up and saw there was a coat inside. It was similar to the one he had now but all black. “I think I like this gift the most so far.”

“I thought you’d appreciate looking less like Sherlock,” she said with a soft laugh. “It’s the same type. Same quality and same fabric. It’s just black, which seems to fit you more.”

“I do appreciate it,” he said. He looked at his gifts for her and picked up one of the heavier ones. “I saw this and thought you might appreciate it. Take it with both hands.”

“All right,” she said. She took it and grunted slightly. “It is quite heavy.” She undid the wrapping paper and then looked at the oriental wooden box and gasped. “Oh, this is beautiful.”

“You can use it for whatever you would like,” he said. “But I thought it was something you would appreciate. Supposedly it’s an antique.”

“Something with history? I love gifts like that,” she said with a smile. “I may use this to hold my jewelry, I think.”

“As long as you have a use for it,” he said.

“I’ll find one.” She picked up a small box and handed it to him. “Great minds seem to think alike, I think.”

He grinned just slightly and undid the wrapping, opening the box and seeing that there was a wooden box inside. It was very simple, and engraved with a picture of the planets in orbit. He let his finger trace over Jupiter for a moment, remembering how the planet had looked the last time he had been near it. “I can use this,” he said with a nod.

“Have you seen any of them?” she asked.

“Jupiter,” he said. “I was outside the orbit of Jupiter a few times before I was put into cryostasis. And I went to other planets, outside of our solar system.”

“That must be fascinating,” she said with a smile.

“It was, I suppose,” he said. He looked at the box for a few more minutes before setting it aside and then picked up another gift for her. This one he was a little less sure of. “I had some help with this. Mary was eager to offer her assistance.” He didn’t mention that Mary had spent the entire trip needling him for details on the type of relationship he had with Molly. It had been a bit exhausting but he had to admit, of the friends of Molly’s he’d met, Mary was the most entertaining. He wouldn’t mind spending more time with her if he had to.

She took the gift from him with an eager look on her face. “I can’t wait to see what it is,” she said. She took the wrapping paper off and then lifted up the lid of the box and ran her finger along the lace of the dress before lifting it out. It was a dark blue lace wrap dress, with long sleeves and a rather revealing neckline, though Mary had said Molly would look smashing in it. She held it against herself. “Oh, this…this is stunning.”

“So you do like it?” he asked.

“I absolutely love it!” she said, a wide smile on her face. She moved from where she was sitting and moved closer to him embracing him. “It’s gorgeous, John. Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said, enjoying the feel of her on his lap as he embraced her back. After a moment she pulled back slightly but stayed sitting there. “I could see about taking you somewhere so you could wear it tonight.”

“Like on a date?” she asked.

He nodded. “Not that I’ve ever been on one before, but yes.”

“Never?” she asked.

“Never saw the point in it,” he said. “Relationships were not something I felt were necessary or important.”

“Ah,” she said, looking at him. “And now?”

He studied her. “Now I could consider it,” he said quietly.

“Good,” she said, leaning in to kiss him softly. He enjoyed this, with her. He enjoyed the chance to get to be close to her. He enjoyed the kisses they had shared. He even enjoyed the slow pace at which whatever it was he had with her was moving. He could handle the very erotic thoughts his subconscious tormented with to let Molly set the pace for this so long as she let him stay close. Finally she pulled away. “We still have more gifts to exchange.”

“I’d like to kiss you more for a while,” he said.

She laughed softly. “Fair enough,” she said, leaning in again. She leaned in and did just that for a while and then, eventually, they broke apart and finished exchanging gifts. He received more clothing as well as a bottle and glass set for the whiskey that he liked. He ended up giving Molly a silver bracelet with many bands and three blue and green stones dotted throughout, a lacy knitted cowl to wear to keep herself warm and a frosted glass perfume bottle entwined with silver shaped like peacock feathers, tipped with gradiated purple and green glass and turquoise stones on top of that. She had looked so happy with all of her gifts, and he was quite pleased with that.

When they were done he watched her open up the rest of the gifts she had gotten from her other friends. He had to admit they had gotten her some lovely gifts but she had seemed more pleased by his gifts. She finished about a half hour later and then got to work making something for them to eat. He didn’t normally eat a lot but Molly had seemed to want to go all out and he would eat at least enough to make her feel as though the effort was worth it. While she did that he got on his laptop and began plotting out an actual date for them where she could put that dress to good use.

She called him over to the table a short time later and they ate their meal, Molly talking animatedly about various holiday traditions she had. He told her about some of the details of the date he’d planned and her eyes grew bright. Most of the holiday traditions involved being out of the house, so once breakfast was finished and the dishes were cleaned they went and got dressed for the cold weather and went out.

They were still out when Molly’s mobile began to ring many hours later. She ignored it the first time, rejecting the call as she was talking to her friend Meena, but then it rang immediately afterward and she sighed as she pulled it out of her handbag. Khan watched from the side as she frowned and answered it. The conversation appeared to be mostly one-sided, with Molly’s face growing more and more shocked as she listened, but when she hung up she said her good-byes to Meena and stalked out of the room, leaving him to follow her. “What happened?” he asked.

“That…that _idiot_ drugged his parents and Mycroft and Mary and stole a laptop with top secret government information on it and took John and is…” Molly looked quite furious. “Sherlock just did something so illegal that he could end up in _jail_ for the rest of his _life_. And he planned it in advance! He knew the last time he saw me he was going to do something this foolhardy and…and _stupid._ ”

He bit back a reply to her tirade, waiting for her to calm down slightly. “You’ll just have to hope it works out for the best, then,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. Then she sighed. “God, I’m going to be so worried. And Mary and the baby…”

It just now registered that she said Mary had been drugged. As Mary was the one of Molly’s friends he actually _liked_ , he felt something at that. Concern, he thought. “Is she all right?”

“I’m not sure. Mycroft didn’t tell me where she was at, just that they were running tests. I’m going to find out,” she said, pulling out her mobile. “He still owes me a favour.”

“Don’t use it on this,” he said, shaking his head. He pulled out his own mobile and placed a call. He had Mary’s mobile number and felt it best to just place a call directly to the source. It wouldn’t hurt, at any rate. After three rings there was an answer. “Mary?”

“John?” Mary answered, her voice sounding slightly woozy. “No, not my John. Molly’s John.”

“Yes. Mycroft called her and she’s in a state of panic. Do you know where you are?”

“University Hospital, I think. Not sure. But they’re sending me home now. Course, I may not be there for long. I may be in jail for strangling my fool of a husband and his idiotic best friend.” She paused. “Do you want to help? I’m sure you have experience.”

He paused, his blood running cold. “What?” he asked.

“You and I…we have pasts. We’re both trying to change, because we have reasons, but we have pasts. You know that, though, don’t you? About my past?”

Oh, she was quite clever. He knew there was a reason he’d liked her so much. “Not specifics, but I’d guessed something of that nature.”

“When the dust settles, we can talk more. But after I decide if I want to murder my husband. Just bring Molly to my home, all right? I know she’s got to be worrying. She’s a good friend.”

“She is,” he said. “We’ll be there shortly.” He hung up and looked at Molly. “They’re releasing her to go home, which I’m assuming means she and the baby are fine. She’s debating whether she wants to kill John and Sherlock at this point.”

“If she does, I’ll help,” she said darkly. “What did she ask you about?”

“Hmm?” he asked.

“Where you said not specifics?”

“Oh. If I knew Sherlock’s plan,” he said, lying easily. “I just had the feeling he was up to something, based on how you told me he acted the last time you saw him.”

“Ah,” she said with a nod as they made their way out to find a cab. Once they got one they got in and headed to Mary and John’s, beating her there by ten minutes. Khan helped her out of the cab as Molly took the keys to let them in. “We should just ambush them and kill them,” she said once she got the door open.

“We should hear them out first,” Khan said. Both women looked at him. “I’m sure they had a reason.”

“They probably did,” Mary said with a sigh. He could tell there was more to it than that. Chances are it had to do with her past, he surmised. He wouldn’t be surprised if blackmail was involved. “Still, this is trouble that they may not be able to extricate themselves from. And Mycroft isn’t liable to help, not this time. If he even can.”

“Then I suppose we just have to sit and wa—” Molly said as the door banged open. They all turned and saw John and Sherlock stalking in. “Wait.”

“You idiots!” Mary said loudly. “What on earth were the two of you _thinking_?”

“It was more, what on earth was Sherlock thinking, which I still haven’t figured out,” John said.

“I was trying to stop a threat,” Sherlock said. “I just didn’t expect the complication.”

“What complication?” Mary asked.

“What threat?” Molly asked.

“Charles Augustus Magnussen,” Sherlock said. “Blackmailer. Rather nasty piece of work. Vile man. I had hoped to trade Mycroft’s laptop for the specific piece of evidence he was using to blackmail…a friend, and unfortunately it turned out all the information was catalogued in his head. Photographic memory. And then when I was about to take drastic measures, the maid came out, shot him in the head, and then took off before Mycroft’s men could stop her.”

Molly gave him a long, hard look. “Define ‘drastic measures, Sherlock,” she said.

“I was going to shoot him myself,” he said.

Molly’s eyes widened. “You were going to murder a man?” she asked, aghast.

“To keep my friend safe? Yes!” he said.

She shook her head. “Unbelievable.” She looked at him. “I thought I knew you. Apparently I didn’t.” She pushed past him and John and made her way out the door.

Mary caught Khan’s eye and then leaned over towards him. “Let her cool down,” she said. “Whatever you did in the past, it’s in the past. She’ll understand.”

He nodded, though he felt a deep pit in his stomach. No, she would not understand what he had done, he realized. She would not understand, and she would not forgive him. He was doomed if he told her the truth, and he wasn’t sure he could keep lying to her. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. What a horrid position to be stuck in…


	9. Chapter 9

He was in a foul mood. He had been since the offhanded remark Sherlock had made the night before, the way Molly had reacted to it. She didn’t seem to like the fact he had planned on killing someone, and that the only thing that had prevented it was someone else doing it instead. He had hoped to maybe one day tell her the complete truth about his own past but now…now he was sure that would doom whatever it was that was starting between them before it had a chance to develop.

The weather had turned ugly, a sudden storm blowing in, and the rain was pouring down in sheets. She’d insisted they leave the house when it hadn’t been so bad, but right now it was quite worse. He was not relishing having to get out of the cab and make the mad dash to the door. He turned from looking out the cab window to her, seeing her bite her lip. “Do you want to talk?” he asked after a moment.

“I thought he had changed,” she said with a sigh, and he made a slight face. Of _course_ she was thinking about Sherlock. She cared for him, he was important to her…probably vastly more important than him. “But no, he just puts his own…” Then she shook her head as she caught the look on his face. “Never mind.”

She must not have read between the lines of what Sherlock said, he realized. “He did it for John and Mary,” he said finally.

“What?” she asked, blinking.

“Mary was probably the one who shot him in Magnussen’s bedroom suite,” he said. He decided to go with a small lie here, since if Mary had not told her the truth it wasn’t his place to do that for her. “I don’t know why, I don’t know her well enough to hazard a guess, but I would bet she did it. She had valid reasons, though. And whatever they were, Sherlock has accepted them, and so has her husband. So to keep them safe, Sherlock was willing to murder a man.” He turned back to the window. “I would think that shows he’s that good man you’ve always considered him after all.”

Molly was quiet for a moment. “I forget you’re as good at deducing things as Sherlock is,” she said quietly. “Why did you think Mary did it?”

He could see they were almost home. He didn’t want to tell her the truth, that he could see some of the cold, dark places in Mary that he had in himself. That she was capable of doing very nasty things when needed to protect those she loved. Maybe not on the scale _he_ had, maybe not with the same level of viciousness, but the capability was there. “Because she’s the logical choice,” he said finally, turning back to Molly. She nodded and then offered him her hand. He took it, cradling her fingers in his. He had to tell her the truth. She deserved to know. “Molly…there’s something I should tell you.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“I know I said I have done some horrible things, back where I’m from,” he said, looking at their hands. “I’ve hurt people. Many people. More than I can remember. And…I’ve killed people.” She pulled her hand back sharply and he shut his eyes. He was an idiot. He could have kept the fiction alive but no, he didn’t want to hurt her, and that would have hurt her. Now he was just going to lose her.

“No,” she said quietly.

“I told you I had secrets,” he said as the cab pulled to a stop outside of her home.

“Yes, but not…not _that_!” she said. She went to open the door and get out of the cab. He quickly paid the driver and got out after her, finding her at the door, fumbling with the keys.

“Molly…” he said.

“You lied!” she said, whirling around to look at him. “You told me you had a past and I thought you’d only hurt a few people, but more people than you can remember? And you’ve _killed_ people?” She shook her head. “Should I believe anything you’ve said, or was it all one lie after another, hmm?”

“I didn’t lie! I just didn’t tell the complete truth. There is a difference,” he said. The rain was pouring on both of them, soaking them to the bone. It didn’t bother him because extreme cold and heat never did, but he could already see it was affecting her. “Molly, get inside. You’ll get sick and you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“No. I’m not going inside with you because you’re a liar,” she said, and he could see her teeth were already chattering.

He advanced on her. “I told you I had my secrets. You said you didn’t care. And you still kissed me. Multiple times, in fact. The fact I chose to tell you my secrets should mean _something_ ,” he said. “If they didn’t mean anything to you then, why do they mean something to you now?”

“Because you did horrible things,” she said.

“ _Oh_. So people _can’t_ change,” he said snidely, narrowing his eyes. “No one except your precious Sherlock, apparently.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about sharing space with a _liar_ tonight, with a man who’s done _horrible_ things. Go inside before you get sick. I’ll stay elsewhere and then while you’re at the hospital tomorrow I’ll collect my things and I’ll leave. I’ll tell Mycroft my association with you is over.” He brushed past her and began walking down the street, heedless of where he was going. He had his wallet so he had money. He could hole up in a hotel for a night.

If he was smart he would have gotten into a taxi but he wanted to punish himself. He should have known that sooner or later the truth would come to the surface. He should have known that if he had started to actually _care_ for Molly, if he had allowed himself to admit he was _falling_ for her, he would want her to know the truth. And he should have known that when she did she would look at him as though he was a monster. Because he was. He didn’t deserve love or happiness. He should be alone, to the end of his days, wallowing in loneliness. It was what he deserved.

He walked and walked, eventually spotting a hotel. He went inside and booked himself a room, glad to be out of the relentless rain. When he got to the room he stripped out of every sodden article of clothing and hung it on every surface he could find. He was surprised his mobile was still operational, but he set it on the nightstand, pointedly ignoring it. He had felt it vibrate while he was walking and he had no desire to speak to anyone right now. Once he was stark naked he went to the loo and took the hottest shower he could stand in an effort to warm himself up.

He finished the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, going to his bed for the night. He contemplated ordering a bottle of whiskey from room service to keep himself occupied for the night when he heard a knock. He hadn’t wanted the interruptions and he stalked over to the door, opening it quickly with a sneer on his lips, one that dropped off his face when he saw Molly standing there, cherry patterned umbrella in her hands, nervous look on her face. “I had Mycroft track your mobile,” she said after a moment.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

“I…” She took a deep breath and looked down. “You did bad things. You hurt a lot of people. You _killed_ people, a lot of people. But you haven’t seemed inclined to do any of that here. And you seemed…sorry, when you told me. And I was just so shocked hearing the truth, the whole, complete truth, that that part didn’t register. But…I _do_ think people can change. And not just Sherlock.” She looked up at him. “You’ve changed, too.”

“I’ve had to,” he said. “But I’ve also wanted to.” He was quiet for a moment. “I was genetically engineered in utero to be part of a more perfect human race, then raised to wipe out an inferior one. That was my purpose. I was designed to wipe out those that were less than me. And I did it with a fervor that surprised those who created me. It’s why I was the leader of those who were exiled with me, the ones who were with me on the ship that crashed here. But here…there is no need to be that way here.”

She looked at him intently. “If there were, would you?”

He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her hair. “Only if it would keep you safe. I’d bring the world to its knees to keep you safe, Molly.” He studied her closely as he let his fingers brush her cheek. “I am still not a nice person,” he said slowly. He needed her to understand that. Just because he might love her, might _be_ in love with her, did not mean he was nice.

“I know,” she said. “But you’re nice to me, and the people in my life, and that’s a start. And…and I still want you in my life.” She stepped closer to him, and he could see she was still in her wet clothes. She’d taken the time to get an umbrella but not enough time to change. After a moment he reached for her and pulled her close. “So. Should I call you John or Khan?”

“I suppose John in public and Khan in private,” he said, moving them so they were in his room and shutting the door. He ignored the chilled clothing against his skin. “Unless you come up with other terms of endearment you prefer instead.”

“I can do that,” she said, nodding. “I’m sorry I walked out.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner,” he said, taking the umbrella from her and dropping it on the floor. She shivered slightly and he pulled away. “Why didn’t you change into dry clothing, Molly?”

“I thought you might do something really stupid,” she said, burying her face in his bare chest. “I wanted to find you and apologize.”

“Strip out of this clothing and take a hot bath,” he said. “Then put on the robe in the washroom and warm up. I’ll stay here and wait.”

She nodded and pulled off her jumper as she moved towards the washroom. He watched her do it and felt a stirring in his loins. They were going to be in far less clothing than they usually were until their garments dried. It was possible that something could conceivably happen tonight, if she wanted it to. He had done many despicable things in the past but forcing himself on someone else was not among them. 

He got back on the bed and lay down, waiting. She took a rather long bath, but he had expected that, and when she came out she had the fluffy white robe on and was towel drying her hair. “That was a very lovely bath,” she said.

“Well, when you’re cold and chilled I expect any warm soak would be,” he said.

“Yes, but there were some oils and bath salts that looked nice, and there was a lavender chamomile bubble bath as well,” she said as she stood near the foot of the bed. “It was very nice to relax in.”

He stood up and moved closer to her, bending down slightly to sniff at her neck. She did smell nice, he supposed. He reached over to run a finger along her collarbone. “Your skin feels very soft,” he said.

“The oils, probably,” she said, looking up at him when he straightened up. “I almost want to take them home with me.”

“You can take them all with you when you go home,” he said. “I doubt housekeeping will miss them.”

She hesitantly reached up to touch his face. “And when do you want me going home?” she asked quietly.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said, moving his hands to her waist. He pulled her against him again and looked down at her. “Or perhaps the day after, if you feel like spending an entire day with me in this room.”

“Well, our clothes are thoroughly soaked, and they might not be dry in time for check-out,” she said, a small smile on her lips. “I’d say Monday morning sounds fine.”

“Good,” he said before bending down and capturing her mouth in a kiss, one she eagerly returned. She opened her mouth to him, letting her tongue slip out, and soon the kiss deepened and he nearly crushed her against him. The other kisses they’d shared had been nothing like this, not nearly this intense. They’d been much sweeter, softer. More sedate. This was a passionate, no holds barred kiss. This kiss was quickly becoming a fight for dominance.

He reached between them and undid the knot to the robe, letting it fall open. He moved his hands to her waist, then around to the small of her back to press her close. She retaliated quickly, moving her hands to the towel around his waist and undoing it, letting it fall to the ground, and then taking his erection in her hand and caressing it. He groaned into the kiss and then backed them towards the wall. She pulled away from his mouth and pressed a kiss into his chest. “What is it like, with you?” she asked.

“What is what like?” he asked as her hands continued to move, sliding back and forth along his erection.

“Shagging,” she said. “Your physiology is different. How does that affect things like recovery time?”

He moved his hands to lift her head up and gave her a decidedly wicked grin. “We might need to stay until Monday afternoon to ensure you can walk properly again if you’d like a proper demonstration.”

She grinned back as a shiver ran through her. “I look forward to that,” she said.

He moved both of his hands to cup her breasts in his hands. She had small, pert breasts, and they fit perfectly in his hands. He ran his thumbs across her nipples and she bit back a moan. “They’re a perfect fit,” he said. “Small, but they fit in my hands.”

“Just because I have small tits doesn’t mean anything,” she said archly, increasing the pressure of her strokes. 

“If you aren’t careful you’re going to have a mess on your hands,” he said.

“I think I know exactly what I’m doing,” she said, moving slightly so he couldn’t grasp her. She sank down to her knees as he watched, only shutting his eyes when she took him into her mouth. She was quite full of surprises, he realized, as she took him in completely and he grasped her hair. 

He was going to be careful not to force her but this…he’d dreamt of this, in the middle of the night after their first kiss. He’d dreamt of all sorts of things being done but this was something that was better than he had imagined. “Molly,” he got out as she applied suction and her tongue to what she was doing. This felt good, this felt better than good, but he needed to be inside her _now_. “Enough.”

She pulled away and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, but he knelt down and scooped her up. She was small and light, so easy to carry, and he took her to the bed. He set her down on it, the robe splayed open. He captured her mouth in a kiss before moving his hand between her legs, beginning to tease her. She was already wet, he found, and he had her moaning into the kiss as he slipped his fingers inside her. He wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt her, that she was ready for him. She tore herself away from the kiss and bit at his shoulder. “Please, Khan. Now.”

The feeling that came over him at hearing her say his real name, at hearing her use it to beg him to enter her, it filled him with a primal desire he hadn’t felt in a long time. He wanted to bury himself as deep inside her as he could, stake his claim over her, make her forget any other man who had ever entered her mind or her heart. “Move forward more,” he said, getting off the bed. The height of the bed would give him an advantage for something he had learned worked well.

She moved forward, scooting up so her legs were off the bed. He lifted her legs up and she set her ankles on his shoulders. “I’ve never been in this position before,” she said.

“I can assure you it will be most pleasurable for you,” he said, positioning himself and then slowly entering her. She moaned as he grabbed her hips to hold her in place. “Yes, Molly. Don’t be quiet. Don’t be timid and shy.”

“Faster,” she said as he buried himself deep inside her. He began to pull out and then when he was almost completely out entered her again, more quickly this time. “More, please.”

“As you wish,” he said, looking down at her. He watched her move a hand to her breasts and grasp them, squeezing as he picked up the pace, and he tightened his grip on her hips. “Tell me what you want, Molly.”

“Harder,” she said, tilting her head back slightly. “I won’t break. I want you…I want it harder.” 

He changed his hold slightly and drove into her, and she moaned. It sounded like music to his ears. Her hands fell away from her breasts to grasp the duvet on the bed, and he decided to lean forward slightly to change the angle. Her breath hitched in this moan, and he knew she was close. He reached between them to toy with her clit. “Say my name,” he said, his voice low.

“Khan,” she said, drawing his name out when her orgasm hit suddenly. He allowed himself a release, driving himself deep inside her one last time while she came apart around him, and he stayed inside her as the waves started to ebb. After a moment she lowered her legs and he covered her again, kissing her as she slowly moved her hands to frame his face. After a few minutes he pulled away, staying close, and he saw she was grinning. “I think I may need an extra day to recover if it’s going to be like that all the time.”

“I don’t mind kidnapping you for a few days if you can go without being missed,” he said.

“I’ll probably be missed, but it would be worth it not to leave this hotel room for a little while,” she said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I get the feeling I can be louder here than I can be at home.”

“And I think I’d like to see just how loud I can make you be,” he said, capturing her lips with his again. After a few moments he felt himself begin to grow hard again, and he felt her smile beneath his lips. However long they stayed in the hotel room, it was going to be quite interesting, he realized. He just hoped Molly’s stamina could at least partially match his own.


	10. Chapter 10

They ended up staying until Tuesday morning. He had to admit, there was something to be said about staying away from her home that allowed the two of them some more freedom than they had where they lived. There was a lot of shagging, of course, but there were also simple moments of closeness, where he would simply hold her while she slept or be near her while they talked, and he found he was savoring those moments as much as the very satisfying shags.

He knew by the time they left the hotel that he was, in fact, in love with her. Molly Hooper had wormed her way into his heart and taken up permanent residence there, made herself comfortable, and he wanted her to stay. She knew the whole truth, and she seemed to accept it well enough. And he would make great pains to not go to how he had been. He had changed while in this time and this version of London. He’d had a reason to, in that this world was different. And now he had more of a reason, because Molly cared for him as he was now, and she would not take kindly to the megalomaniacal side of him making a reappearance.

He let them into her home and as soon as they were inside and the door was shut behind them he pulled her in for a long, leisurely kiss. She smiled beneath his lips, standing on her toes as she wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him back. “You have to leave me able to walk tomorrow,” she said with a laugh when she pulled away a few moments later. “I can’t call in another day. Three days will look suspicious.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’m sure I’ve been missed. There were messages on my mobile.”

She frowned. “Did you listen to them?” she asked. He shook his head. She pulled away from him completely for a moment and then turned towards her sitting room. “Mycroft, if you’re in my home, say something now. I’m not in the mood to be surprised.”

“As you wish,” Mycroft said from the sitting room. After a few moments footsteps were heard and Mycroft approached the two of them. He studied them. “It appears there’s been a change in your relationship.”

“We’re dating,” Molly said before Khan could open his mouth and he felt a curious warmth settle over him. There had been no hesitation on her part when she said that, no thinking it over at all. She considered what they had to be more than just a physical relationship, he realized. There were emotional bonds as well. This pleased him. “This isn’t going to pose any problems, is it?”

“Would that stop you if it did?” Mycroft countered.

“Not particularly,” Molly said.

“I thought as much,” he said. “No, Molly, a relationship between you and John will not pose problems, so long as it remains a healthy one. He does not need distractions, though, such as these last few days. There is work to be done.”

“I suppose I should get back to it, then,” Khan said.

Mycroft shook his head. “You can afford one more day off, though just that. Tomorrow you need to return and go back to the supervisory position to which you have been hired.” He moved around them. “I’ll continue the fiction that it was a forty-eight hour stomach bug.”

“Thank you, Mycroft,” Molly said.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he said before opening the door and then stepping outside.

Khan turned to Molly and then gave her a slight grin. “I seem to have unexpectedly gotten the rest of the day to myself. Do you have any suggestions on how we should spend it?”

“Mmm, while part of me really wants to stay in bed, that would mean I’d have even more trouble walking tomorrow than I had today,” she said with an impish grin.

“Not if we spend most of the time in bed with my head between your thighs,” he replied, pulling her close.

“Tempting as that is, and it is _very_ tempting, perhaps we should go on an actual date,” she said. 

“Would going out make you happy?” She nodded. “Then we can do that.”

“Good,” she said, giving him a wide smile. She leaned in to kiss him softly but if she had intended for it to be a brief kiss he didn’t oblige, keeping her close and drawing it out until she was panting when she pulled away to catch her breath. “Promise me you’ll always kiss me like that.”

“I will do my best,” he said. “Let’s change into fresh clothing and then you can decide where we go.”

She nodded and then reluctantly pulled away before they both headed up the stairs to their rooms. He changed quickly, putting on something comfortable yet sophisticated looking in case her tastes went to something that way. He went back to the foyer and waited for her, and when she came back down he saw she had put on a dress. It was pale yellow with bouquets of yellow and pink flowers on it and green leaves interspersed throughout, and it showed off quite a bit of cleavage, which he appreciated. It was held up with thin straps and there was a dark yellow leather belt at the waist. She spun slightly. “Well?” she asked.

“I’m reconsidering this date,” he said, moving closer to her. “I’m thinking taking you back to bed is a much better option.” 

She laughed and reached for his hand. He had found he liked having her hand in his and the reassurance that she was close. It felt comfortable and pleasurable, feelings that had been in short supply in his past, and he enjoyed them. “Let me at least enjoy a bit of time in public in a pretty dress with a handsome man,” she said.

“All right,” he said with a slight sigh. She leaned over and kissed his cheek softly and then they left her home again and got in a cab to go to a place she’d mentioned she went to brunch at with friends, The Riding House Café. It was a nice enough place, he supposed. It seemed as though it was a place that suited Molly.

They got their meals ordered once they had been seated and he’d had the chance to study the menu. He’d had the pancakes and a poached egg while Molly had ordered the “Full and Proper English Breakfast," which had elicited a grin from him and a smack on the shoulder from her. They’d indulged in room service while sequestered in the hotel room and their time together in bed seemed to have worked up quite an appetite in her. Apparently she still had one.

“After this, I was thinking Hyde Park,” she said. “It’s only a twenty minute walk from here and we can just nose around, see what there is to do. No pressure or anything like that.”

He nodded. “I enjoy spending time at that park,” he said. “That will be fine.”

“Any particular place you like to go?” she asked.

“I tend to drift over to Speakers’ Corner,” he said. “Listen to what’s being said, learn more about the state of things in this time and place. Pick up a coffee and a sandwich at one of the refreshment points and just walk and observe.”

“Was that place important to you back home?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It was gone, in my time, in my version of this world. But its history was known to me. I used to wonder at what types of speeches were made at that park. That is easier to reconcile than other things.”

“Are you still having trouble adjusting?” she asked.

“Not as much,” he said. “The technology of this era I’ve almost grasped, the history I know fairly well back to the 1600s, or at least British history, and I’m slowly working my way back through modern pop culture.”

“Well, if you’d like any help with the latter, let me know. I think spending some evenings curled up on the sofa with you watching programs or movies on the telly would be evenings well spent,” she said with a smile.

“Unless we get distracted,” he replied.

“Actually, that’s part of the fun,” she said as her smile grew wider. He grinned back a bit more and then she launched into another topic and the conversation kept going, even as their food came. He had to admit the food was good, but not as good as what Molly made. He had a preference for her meals, he’d realized some time ago. When the meal was over he insisted he pay for it, and then the two of them left and went to Hyde Park.

It was a nice day, rather warm and sunny, which had been a surprise given the gloomy weather the last few days. He was glad for it, though. They walked hand in hand through the park, stopping off at the refreshment point at Hyde Park Corner to get coffee, and ended up making their way to Speakers’ Corner. It was not nearly as crowded as when he went on Sunday mornings but they found a bench and sat there, listening to people talk for nearly an hour before he saw she was beginning to get restless, and so they moved again, heading towards the Serpentine River.

“Have you ever been on the boats here?” Molly asked.

He shook his head. “I never saw the point,” he said, taking a sip of the second coffee he got at Speakers’ Corner.

“They have one that’s supposed to be solar powered. We should go on that,” she said. “But only if you want to.”

He considered it. It sounded a bit dull but she seemed to want to, and if it would make her happy he was game. “We can do that,” he said.

“Good,” she said, leaning in to kiss him. He kept her close, aware that they were out in public, and so he kept the kiss decent. When she pulled away she played with the collar of his shirt. “I think after the boat ride we should go home,” she said quietly. “Especially if your earlier suggestion is still an option.”

He leaned his head in closer. “The one where I bury my head between your thighs and continually make you beg and moan my name?” he asked, his lips near her ear.

“Yes,” she said, moving her hands to his chest, her voice just a little huskier.

“Do we have to wait?” he asked.

“Are you talking about shagging in public?” she asked, shock in her voice.

“No, though that would be an enticing activity to engage in one day,” he said. “I was thinking more we leave here now and come back some other time. The boats will be here for some time, but you wanting me to bring you pleasure and me offering to…that may not happen again so soon.”

“So you’ll withhold shagging?” she asked.

“I could,” he teased.

“Then I suppose it would be in our mutual best interest to go home now,” she said.

“I had hoped you would see things that way,” he said with a nod before pulling away. He looked at her and saw the heat in her eyes and knew that, at least tonight, the chances that he would be spending the night in his own bed alone where slim to none, and he was perfectly fine with that.


	11. Chapter 11

The call from Mary on Wednesday afternoon was not unexpected. She had left a few of the messages on his voicemail, though when she realized Molly was also summarily avoiding her calls and not going into work the messages had taken on a very teasing tone as opposed to the worry of the earlier ones. She knew Molly well. And him too, he supposed as he made his way to the coffee shop near her home. She said it was the type of place they could have some privacy, if they needed it. He spotted her within moments, settled into a booth in the back of the shop. She had a drink in front of her. “I’m assuming that’s not coffee,” he said as he slipped into the seat across from her.

“Herbal tea,” she said. “Apparently there’s too much caffeine in Earl Grey.” She rolled her eyes. “I love my husband, but I need to have _some_ vices left in the world.”

He laced his fingers together and set them on the table. “And were your vices very bad to begin with?” he asked.

“I was a smoker for five years,” she said. “That was hard as hell to quit. And I did enjoy a bit of gambling when I could. My dear husband thinks he’s quite good at poker. He has no idea I let him win.”

Khan looked impressed. “I’m imagining there were others.”

“I liked my alcohol, just as much as any other woman my age, though only in the down time. Not while I was working if I could help it.” She picked up her tea and took a sip. “I’ve gone from martinis and gin and tonics to wine and the occasional Cosmo. Which isn’t so bad, I suppose. I got a husband I adore and a daughter I’ll love to death and good friends in the bargain.”

“There are worse things,” he said with a nod.

“And I’m assuming you did some very naughty things in your past,” she said.

“On a scale you wouldn’t imagine,” he said.

She looked at him shrewdly. “You aren’t from here, are you? I mean, you aren’t from _here_ here. This world.”

“You’re quite astute,” he said. “How did you know?”

“Little things,” she said. “Some of the technology seems foreign to you, but not so much new as outdated. Your grasp of certain topics is iffy at best. At first I thought you might be Russian but I spoke to my contacts, and if there had been a sleeper agent who was the spitting image of Sherlock Holmes that would have been _much_ bigger news in the intelligence community, and Mycroft Holmes _certainly_ never would have agreed to it. So I thought broader, did some digging. Something happened a little while back. Something off the coast. You’re involved in that, aren’t you?”

Despite himself he was quite impressed, and he knew it showed on his face. “I think astute is probably the wrong descriptive term,” he said. “As nosy as a bloodhound would be better.”

“You’re just saying that because we’re friends,” she said with a smile. “Well? Are you?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I’m from an alternate version of this earth, from the future. I was sent back here with members of my crew. They were murdered, and the ship crashed. I was the lone survivor.”

“And Molly knows?” she asked.

He nodded. “She’s known from the start. Sherlock knows as well; he realized his brother was involved, and Molly as well, and he forced the issue. We tend to try and avoid each other.”

“Well, that’s tough because I quite like you and I know Molly _really_ likes you so you’re going to be around more whether he likes it or not,” she said with a grin. “You can be my friend, not his.”

He looked at her for a moment. “You don’t want to know more about my past?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Your past is your past, just like my past is my past. We may choose to tell each other bits and pieces as time goes on, but we don’t _have_ to share,” she said. “We’ve both done horrible things, and we both have reasons _not_ to do them now. So that’s all there is to it, really. If you want to talk to me, I’m willing to listen. I’d understand far better than most. So long as you allow me to do the same, if I need to.”

He considered it. He had been open and honest with Molly, and while she had accepted most of it he knew there were parts that unsettled her, that made her uncomfortable. “And Molly?”

She thought for a moment. “Let me tell her about my past first. I don’t know how I’ll tell her, all things considered, but…she does deserve to know. But if she wants to talk to me about dealing with whatever you’ve chosen to tell her, and that’s all right with you, then I’ll lend her an ear.”

“That’s fine with me,” he said with a nod.

“All right.” She tilted her head. “I’m in the mood for Indian all of a sudden. Something spicy enough to make the baby kick. How about you?”

“Molly did say she would be at St. Bart’s late, making up for missing the last few days at her post,” he said. “I doubt she would want me attempting to cook dinner so this can be my meal for the day.”

“Good. We’ll even pick up something for her. I know what she’s fond of. You can take it to her at the hospital. She’d probably be pleased, so long as you take it to her office.”

“That sounds good to me,” he said with a nod.

Mary picked up her cup and the two of them left the booth, making their way to an Indian restaurant nearby. They sat at one of the tables inside, and it appeared Mary went their often because the owner came out to chat with her personally. She introduced Khan to him, and when he found out that Khan liked spicy dishes he suggested a personal favorite dish, made special for the family. Mary looked quite excited at the possibility of having a bite or two, and when it came out and Khan had some he felt for the first time since being awoken the second time he had found the perfect meal. The owner was quite pleased to find someone who loved the dish as much as he did and Khan promised to come back often to eat it.

Once they were done eating he got the takeaway for Molly and said good-bye to Mary before heading to the hospital. He had been there once before and remembered his way down to where Molly was, heading down there quickly. He made his way inside and heard the bone saw buzzing. He stood by the doors until she looked up and then she gave him a smile. “Khan!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

He held up the food. “Dinner.”

“What time is it?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Six thirty,” he replied.

“I should have already been on my way home, and I can’t leave until I finish this,” she said, gesturing to the body with the saw. “You don’t have to wait around.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Office?”

She pointed to his left with her saw. “Through the door. My colleague has a game on the computer for when he’s bored. I doubt he’d mind if you played, if you want.”

“I might,” he said before heading into the office. He set her food down and then sat in her office chair. He considered the computer but then pulled out his mobile instead, using the web browser feature on it to look up various things. It was perhaps an hour and a half later that she came back in. He looked up and then gestured to the food. “I expect it’s cold now.”

“Well, I can take it up to the canteen and make use of their microwave,” she said as she got closer. She stood next to her chair and he pulled her onto his lap. She smiled at him and began to play with the collar of his shirt. “I still need to run tests and type up reports, so it’s going to be at least an hour, if not longer.”

“So you’re saying I should go home and wait for you there,” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said with a nod, leaning in. “But because you were quite nice in bringing me food, even if it is stone cold by now, you don’t have to sleep alone tonight.”

“I look forward to that,” he said before kissing her. He knew that this was her workplace and anyone could stop by at any point, so he tried his best not to let things get carried away, but he did kiss her for quite a while. She pulled away and grinned down at him before getting off his lap. He stood up moments later. “I’ll leave you to your work, then.”

“I’ll try and get back quickly,” she said. “Like I said, I hadn’t realized how late it was.”

“Well, next time I’ll just have to convince you to come in and eat before you’re elbows deep in a body,” he said as he headed towards the door.

“You can _try_ ,” she said with a laugh. “But it’s hard to stop once you start.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said with a nod. “See you when you get back home.”

“All right,” she said with a nod as he let himself out of the office. He decided to catch himself a cab and he got home quickly, settling himself in his chair with a book. It was indeed a little over an hour later when Molly came through the door. “I’m back. I did the tests and then decided to just type everything up in the morning.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said, closing his book as she came into the sitting room. She settled herself on his lap as he set the book on the table. “Are you going to have an early morning?”

She shook her head. “I was rather hoping you might decide to linger in bed for a while,” she said. “I don’t relish the idea of waking up to an empty bed.”

“I could,” he said.

“Good.” She leaned in and kissed him, and after a moment he snaked his hand under her shirt. When his fingers skirted the bottom of her bra she grinned into the kiss. “I get the feeling you’re quite eager to see me,” she said warmly.

“I am,” he replied.

“Well, _I_ am quite eager to see you, too,” she said before kissing him again. After a moment he put his arms underneath her and got up off the chair in one easy motion before carrying her to her bedroom. They would have to leave eventually, but he could ensure it would be a very enjoyable time spent until that had to happen.


	12. Chapter 12

He quite enjoyed what he and Molly had, he realized a few weeks later. He wasn’t sure just how serious it was on her end, but he knew he cared for her quite a bit, and had since the night at the art gallery, and it had just grown and grown. He could admit to himself he was in love with her, though he wasn’t sure he would be able to admit that to her just yet. But regardless of whether she felt it was as serious as he did or not, though, she seemed content. Even happy, he would venture. 

Since they returned from the hotel they rarely spent an evening in their own separate beds. Most nights they were in her bed, and he woke up long before she did, keeping her close, staying there until her alarm went off for her to begin getting ready for her day. Sometimes she woke up before the alarm, when he let his fingers dance over her skin to tease her, occasionally letting them drift lower to work her into a state if she was receptive enough. But most mornings he was not alone until he had to get in the car to be taken to the warehouse to get to work, and then he was surrounded by people who mattered less until he was taken back home to the person who mattered more.

Home. He had started to consider Molly’s home his own home at some point, he realized a little while back. He had stopped thinking of it as “the building in which I live” around the first time he’d kissed Molly, and the feeling of it being home had just grown as more time had gone on. She might still want him to leave at some point, though. He wasn’t sure. But he rather hoped she didn’t.

He was back at the house, on one of the more rare occasions that Molly was out late at St. Bart’s, when there was a knock at the door. Not a very gentle knock, either. It wasn’t quite a pounding, but it was close. He got up from his chair with a sigh and went to answer it, finding himself eye to eye with Sherlock. “Holmes,” he said with a nod.

“ _Cousin_ ,” Sherlock said, in a bit of a snide tone. It was going to be one of _those_ conversations, he realized with a sigh as he stepped out of the way for Sherlock to come in. Once Sherlock was inside Khan made his way back to the sitting room and sat back down, looking up at Sherlock. “You’ve certainly made yourself at home.”

“As I am sharing the residence, that was rather the point,” he replied with a shrug.

“You’re sharing more than that,” Sherlock said, narrowing his eyes. “What are your designs on Molly?”

“I have no _designs_ on Molly,” he said, glaring at Sherlock. “I genuinely care for her.”

Sherlock snorted slightly at that. “Men like you don’t care for anyone,” he said, crossing his arms.

“And what do you know of ‘men like me’?” Khan asked, standing up and moving in front of Sherlock. “You know nothing about me. You insist on spending the bare minimum of time around me, and you make zero effort to learn anything about me.”

“I know what you’ve told my brother is a fiction,” he said. “I know you are far more dangerous than you seem.”

Well, if he knew, there was no point in denying it so he simply shrugged. “And?”

Sherlock blinked. “What?”

Realization dawned on Khan. “You _didn’t_ know for sure,” he said. “You were trying to get me to tip my hand.”

“So you really are dangerous?” Sherlock asked.

“I was, back home. Far more dangerous than you could imagine,” he said, turning around and heading to the kitchen. “Before you decide to use it as a threat, Molly knows the truth, Mary figured out the gist of it and I’m sure by now your brother has too. It doesn’t seem to bother any of them, so as long as that’s the case I don’t see it being a very effective threat.”

Sherlock followed him. “Do what’s right and end things with Molly, before you hurt her,” he said. “She deserves better than that.”

Khan stopped and whirled around, and Sherlock stopped mere inches in front of him. “Don’t tell me you think she deserves _you_ ,” he said. “You’re a pisspoor friend, as far as I can tell, at least of late. Granted it had to do with the case so I’m reserving judgment, but you didn’t see her reaction when she thought you were marrying another woman without any regards to her. You didn’t see how that hurt her.” He advanced on Sherlock and Sherlock took a step back. “I may have been a very bad person, and I may _still_ have a tendency to be an unpleasant man, but I will tell you that I am in love with Molly and I will do whatever it takes to make her happy, even if it involves bringing the world to its knees, though I’m fairly sure she won’t want me to go that far. She is very important to me, more than you can realize.”

A soft gasp from behind them caught both men’s attention, and Sherlock turned as Khan looked around him to see Molly standing there. “I…” she said quietly.

“Damn,” Khan murmured.

“Sherlock, what are you doing here?” she asked, turning her attention to Sherlock.

“I wanted to have a chat with John,” he said. “About personal matters.”

“You mean about my relationship with him,” she said flatly. “It’s not your concern.”

“But he’s dangerous,” Sherlock said.

“I understand that,” she said. “It’s still none of your concern.” She moved closer to them. “You went off and kept your relationship with…with _Janine_ absolutely quiet, and why? So we wouldn’t judge? So we wouldn’t stick our noses into it? Well it goes both ways, Sherlock. I don’t want you sticking your nose into my relationship with John. Thank you for your input but it’s not needed.”

Sherlock looked at her. “He has an agenda,” he said.

“What, like you?” she asked, glaring at him. “John… _other_ John, I mean, told me the truth, that your relationship with Janine was a hoax. That’s cruel on a level that I don’t even want to comprehend, _especially_ since she thought you wanted to marry her. You never did change, did you? Always doing what you think is best without regards to others.” She set her handbag on the table in front of her sofa. “I don’t need it. I don’t need that in my life, Sherlock. Find yourself another pathologist to work with. Find yourself another friend who will put up with it. I’m done.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore, Sherlock,” she said quietly, shutting her eyes. “I don’t want anything else to do with you.”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, then turned and moved around her to go to her door, letting himself out. Khan watched, and then went to Molly. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah?” she said uncertainly, and then she sighed. “No. I…I probably should have done that a while ago. I mean, he had changed, but he hadn’t, and then coming home to him trying to get you to leave…” She wrapped her arms around him and he did the same in kind, holding her close. “Thank you. I needed that.”

He nodded, staying quiet. He had the feeling, as much as he hated to admit it, that she was going to regret pushing Sherlock out of her life. After a little while she let go. “Do you feel better?” he asked.

“A bit,” she said. “I may have that last slice of banoffee pie and curl up on the sofa and watch something for a bit.”

“I’ll sit with you,” he said. She gave him a smile and then moved into the kitchen. It was only then that it hit him that she hadn’t said one thing or the other about him saying he was in love with her. He hadn’t expected her to say it back, of course, but a reaction of _some_ sort would have been nice. Still, she’d just ended a friendship with someone she cared about, he thought to himself. Perhaps she’d bring it up later. He’d just have to wait and see.


	13. Chapter 13

As much as he thought Sherlock was a twat, he had to admit that he was important to Molly. She didn’t seem herself in the days after she ended her friendship with him. She seemed quieter, more withdrawn. She didn’t want to do much more than curl up with him and just stay close. He noticed she was pushing away other friends as well, ignoring calls from Mary and Meena. After a week of it he called Mary up to have a chat.

“She’s not taking it well, is she?” Mary asked when she joined Khan at the table with her cup of tea.

“No,” he said. “I don’t…this is not something I know how to fix. If it involved breaking various bones in Sherlock’s body or delivering a beating of epic proportions, that I could do. Easily, and probably with great pleasure. But…this, I don’t know how to handle.”

“Welcome to your crash course in regular human relationships,” Mary said with a smile. “I imagine your crash course will be quite a bit rougher than mine was. Fortunately, you have me as a guide.” She sipped her tea. “Your primary goal is for Molly to be happy, yeah?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he said.

“Even if that means Sherlock is in the picture?” she asked tentatively.

He clenched his jaw for a moment. “Even so,” he said after a moment.

Mary’s eyes widened slightly. “You must really care for her quite a bit. I think you’d rather murder Sherlock than play nice with him.”

Khan decided not to comment on the validity of that statement, deciding to sip his coffee instead. “What should we do?” he asked when he was done.

“Well, I think Sherlock needs a sharp slap to the back of the head, both literally and metaphorically,” she said. “I don’t think he realizes that while he might _think_ he knows what’s best for Molly’s life he’s distanced himself since you got here so he doesn’t know the first thing about the type of relationship you two have, or the type of person you are here. You may have to put up with him trying to get to know you better.”

He grimaced. “Would it make Molly happy?” he asked.

Mary nodded. “It would,” she said. “So long as they fix their own problems. He has changed, quite a bit. He just needs to be better at not slipping back into old habits. And she’s not blameless either. She needs to acknowledge he’s going to slip up on occasion, that old habits are comforting. They need to work on their friendship more, fix it, strengthen it. But I’ll deal with Sherlock. You talk to Molly.”

“I can do that,” he said.

She studied him for a moment. “Would you really kill Sherlock if he hurt Molly?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Not a tiny hurt. I mean a large, gaping wound in her heart.

“Without hesitation,” he said, picking up his coffee. “And as painfully as possible.”

“Oh, if that isn’t a sign you love her I don’t know what is,” Mary said. “I’m the same way with John, except I’m of the more ‘you’ll never see it coming’ side of things.”

Khan nodded approvingly. “Considering I was bred for war and you were an assassin, it’s fitting,” he said.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“How else would you be able to shoot Sherlock in a way to make it appear as though you’d killed him but allow him to live?” Khan asked. “Only a skilled assassin could do that.”

Mary gave him an approving look. “Oh, you’re quite good. And flattering, too.”

“I appreciate good skill,” he said.

She nodded. “I definitely think we’ll be good friends,” she said with a nod.

His mouth quirked up in a grin. “I rather hope so,” he said. They lapsed into silence for a bit before Mary changed the subject, and then they chatted for an hour before he headed back to Molly. She was still on the sofa, though she’d fallen asleep. He sat next to her and gently pulled her closer to him and she woke up, giving him a sleepy smile. “If you wanted to sleep there are more comfortable places than the sofa.”

“I hadn’t planned on sleeping,” she said, curling into him as he put an arm around her shoulders. “How was coffee?”

“Nice,” he said. “Mary is a good friend now.”

“She is,” Molly said, her smile kind of sad. “I suppose I’ll have to give her and John up now, though.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You know I’m not fond of Sherlock,” he said. “And you know if I never had to deal with him again I’d be much happier. But…you care for him a lot. It’s obvious he’s still important to you. Maybe you should give him another chance.”

“So he can hurt me again?” she asked. “He doesn’t get to run roughshod over my life, Khan.”

“No, he doesn’t,” he agreed. “He should get to give his opinions but he doesn’t get to dictate anything. But…perhaps…he just wants the best for you. Unfortunately he just doesn’t actually spend enough time with you to _see_ what’s best for you.”

“He sees, but does not observe,” she said quietly.

“I suppose,” he replied. “He was a crap friend. Whatever was going on in his life, he pushed you aside, and then because he thought he’d figured out my secret, that I had a dangerous past, he felt he knew more than you and he should protect you. In a way, it’s understandable, even if it is annoying.” She gave him a small smile at that. “But you know the truth, the whole truth. You’ve seen the changes. You think there’s good in me. And your opinion matters more than his. But I don’t think he was purposefully trying to hurt you. I think he just wanted to protect you.”

“I know,” she said, her smile dimming. She placed a hand on his chest. “I just…I thought we were friends, but we haven’t acted like it lately. We drifted apart, ever since the wedding. And then you came, and things started happening with you and I felt _happy_ and he was trying to ruin it and I felt so upset. I know he was doing it because he cared. I just…wish he had done it another way.”

“I wish he had too,” he said quietly.

She ran her hand along his chest for a moment. “I heard what you told him, about how you feel about me,” she said. “That you love me.”

“I thought you had,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know if I feel the same way,” she said. “I don’t want to lie and say I do when it turns out I don’t. I don’t want to hurt you. But…I think I might. I care about you a lot, I know that much. You make me quite happy, and I enjoy being around you. I like having you here, near me.” She lifted her head up more. “It’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but it’s the truth, and…after everything, I think we shouldn’t keep secrets. No lies, just honesty.”

He nodded, moving a hand to tangle his fingers in his hair. “I’ll accept that for now,” he said. “But if it changes…”

“If it changes I swear, I’ll tell you first,” she said with a smile before leaning in and kissing him softly. He kissed her back for a moment before pulling her onto his lap. He could definitely accept that she cared, that he made her happy. That was enough for now.


	14. Chapter 14

**A Few Weeks Later**

He woke up in bed next to Molly, aware that, for once, he was not the first one awake. He was also aware that it was later than he normally slept, since the sun was streaming through her bedroom window. He stretched for a moment and then pulled her close against him, crushing her hands in place against his chest. “Why did I oversleep?” he asked.

She laughed. “Because we stayed up until after you usually go to sleep shagging, to make up for your Valentine’s Day plans being dashed,” she said. “And before you ask, I haven’t been to sleep yet. I’ve tried, but I just couldn’t, so I snuck out of bed to get coffee and something to eat. You didn’t even realize I was gone”

He realized after a moment she was clad in one of his button down shirts, only partially buttoned and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. He moved a hand to her hip and then just below, and after a moment slid it under the shirt and found, to his dismay, she had put her knickers back on. “I could sleep through battle, I can sleep in an empty bed,” he said.

“Apparently,” she replied with an amused grin. She leaned in and kissed him, keeping it nice and lazy for a moment before using her hands on his chest to push him onto his back. “I do feel bad you went to all the trouble of planning a surprise and it got ruined.”

“Well, you more than made it up to me when we got home,” he said, reaching up and tangling his fingers in her hair. The whole evening had been a disaster. Mary had gone into labour while Sherlock and John were away on a case that Mycroft had insisted wouldn’t take them away from London, only it had ended up taking them away to Scotland. Horrible weather was making it almost impossible for John to get back, so Khan and Molly were at the hospital with Mary throughout her labour. It was only by a miracle that John managed to show up just ten minutes before Mary delivered their daughter, Louisa Marie Watson, to the world.

By the time the baby had been delivered the dinner reservations were gone and it was too late to enjoy anything else that evening, so they’d simply gotten takeaway and headed home, much to Khan’s disappointment. Valentine’s Day was supposed to be a big deal for couples, as he had heard so many people make it a point to remind him, and his own plans had been dashed. He had been glad to be there for a friend, but still. But after they had gotten settled in front of the telly and the food had been eaten and he had succeeded in pulling Molly’s attention away from the sappy romantic comedy with much more romantic endeavours of his own, she had pulled away and looked at him and said three words he had rather been hoping to hear for a while now: “I love you.” It was not long after that the movie and the sofa were abandoned and he took her to bed where he spent a great many hours doing everything he could to please her, to make her moan and whimper and to shout his name as she came. Eventually, though, even he needed to rest, and that lead to this moment right now.

She leaned in and kissed him again, a slow, searching kiss that ignited something in him. He knew they should both be scrambling to get ready for work, as they had posts to go to, but she didn’t seem in a hurry to leave the bed. She pulled away from the kiss and then smiled at what he imagined was a look of slight confusion on his face. “I already called in, for both of us,” she said. She reached for the front of the shirt and began to undo the buttons, letting more and more skin show as each one came undone. Finally they were all open, and he removed his hand from her hair to reach forward and settle his hands on her waist. “I have you all to myself today.”

“I am quite interested to see what you plan to do with me,” he said with a grin, sliding his hands up her waist.

“Quite a few things, if you’re lucky,” she said with a grin before leaning in again. She let her mouth hover over his. “I love you, Khan.”

He grinned at that. “I love you too, Molly,” he said before kissing her passionately. And he did, more than he could truly express, but he would never stop trying to tell her.


End file.
